


Private Dealings

by VampAngel79



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Humor, Mystery, Private Investigators, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-07-24 07:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampAngel79/pseuds/VampAngel79
Summary: Sookie Stackhouse is a Private Investigator. Eric Northman is, well, Eric Northman. You'll need to read to find out the rest. AH/AU.(A quick test for you to find out if this story is for you: “Who would you rather be? The pretty princess who waits for her knight in shining armor to save her; or the warrior woman who goes to slay the dragon?” If your answer is the latter, you’re in the right place.)





	1. Ode To Patriarchy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a completely new story with a very different Sookie and an Eric that might not be exactly like the books, but has his essence (it’s hard to make Eric human, since being a vampire is so integral to him, but I think I found a way). I always found Eric easier to write then Sookie. This story came to me, and I’m very excited about it. However, I’m not sure it’s worth the effort. I need you to let me know If I should continue or not. This is more of an introductory chapter. It’ll pick up and Eric will show up soon enough. I want to finally write a great Sookie. So, what do you think of this Sookie so far? I need feedback before I post anymore, please?
> 
> It’s all human. 
> 
> PS: I finally found a beta, the amazing kleannhouse. She worked her magic and fixed all the already posted chapters and she’ll be working with me on future ones. I can’t thank her enough. Any errors remaining are all mine.  
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________

**PRIVATE DEALINGS**

********

********

 

**_“I thought it was time for a tough, smart, likable female private investigator, and that’s how VI came to life.” ― Sara Paretsky_ **

**_**__** _ **

**_**__** _ **

 

**_“I am an investigator by inclination. I feel a great thirst for knowledge.” ― Immanuel Kant_ **

**_**__** _ **

**_**__** _ **

 

**_“I am a private detective. I am paid to be inquisitive and presumptuous.” ― Douglas Adam_ **

**_**__** _ **

**_**__** _ **

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

**CHAPTER 1 – ODE TO PATRIARCHY**

********

********

 

There was nothing better than starting your week working at a Strip Club. Sarcasm aside, I should clarify that I wasn’t one of the dancers. I was there to meet my client. I’m a private detective, a PI, a Private Dick – although that last one hardly applies since I’m female. The truth was that the only difference between us was their lack of clothes and my outfit. After all, I was told I was pretty enough and my body was very fit. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I have a very hard won sense of self-worth and I’m big on honesty. 

So, there I was sitting at a back table at this Ode to Patriarchy watching the strippers gyrating on stage. I have to say that I was appreciating the show. Not because I was attracted to women, but the sheer physical strength and skill these girls showed was damn impressive. I had taken dance classes from my early childhood through my teenage years and I didn’t think I’d be able to put on such a great show using a dance pole to save my life. I was never the best dancer, but I wasn’t horrible either. And even now that I kept myself fit with jiu-jitsu classes, I’d still probably make an ass out of myself on that stage. Not that I wanted to try, well at least not in front of an audience, especially one of drooling Neanderthals. But, I could take some pole dance classes, maybe. I could even ask my client if she’d teach me. Nah, never a great idea to mixed business with pleasure. 

 

It’s peculiar being the lone woman patron inside a Gentlemen’s Club. It’s kind of like being a biologist observing primates in their natural habitat. It was mid-morning, but there was already half a dozen patrons there. Most of them glanced my way when I came in, but quickly lost any interest. Not surprising since I was pretty covered up in my business suit, and they had a better feast for their eyes up front where the ladies were wearing what could only be generously called tiny bikinis while putting Beyoncé to shame. This establishment didn’t allow full nudity on stage, even the tops stayed on. It was classy like that. Now, what happened in the private rooms in the back was something I could very well imagine, but didn’t like dwelling on it. Not my business anyway and from what I’d been told it was all consensual. 

 

Normally, I’d have my client meeting me at my office. However, I had some pretty good news for her that I decided couldn’t wait. She wasn’t on stage, so I had asked my waitress for a beer and to please check to see if Ebony could come talk to me at my table. I tipped her heavily, for two reasons. One she dealt with assholes all day, so she was due, and I wanted some discretion, or at least what could pass for discretion here. Ebony’s issues and my work for her didn’t affect her job, but these places tended to be a world unto itself and gossip abounded. 

 

Not five minutes later, Ebony came sauntering towards me from the backstage area. Her given name wasn’t Ebony, of course. That was her stage name and the only one she advised me to use here. It fit her, which I’m guessing is why she chose it. She was an extremely beautiful woman, approaching forty, but didn’t look it. She had coffee colored skin, impressive dreadlocks, a body any dancer would kill for and she was over six feet tall. She made quite an impression. Many of the patrons decided that watching her, even covered with a silk robe, was more entrancing than the semi naked girls on stage. 

 

“Sookie? Whatcha you doing here, girl?”

“Hi, Ebony. Please, sit down, if you can. I have some good news.”

 

I smiled at her and she gave a dazzling smiled back. I knew how important what we had been working towards was for her. She looked around, nodded to the bouncer and sat down across from me. The waitress hurried back. I ordered another beer just to be polite, and told Ebony to order whatever she wanted. She opted for a Coke, because she said she never drank while working and she’d be back on the stage in about 15 minutes.

 

“So, did you get it?”

“I did. I caught them yesterday afternoon at the park. I took all the photos and video you’ll ever need to help prove your case. I already sent them to Amelia. She’s organizing all the evidence and she’ll be taking it to the DA’s office later today.”

Ebony sucked in a breath. She shuddered once, lowered her head and when she looked up again there were silent tears falling from her eyes. I passed her a napkin and squeezed her hand. 

“I can’t ever thank you enough, Sookie.”

“Don’t be silly, I was glad to help. And you did hire me. I was just doing my job.”

“I tried another PI before I went to you. When he found out what I did for a living, he refused to take my case. You have treated me with respect and kindness before and after you learned of my job.”

“Ebony, you know much better than I, I’m betting, that the world is full of judgmental assholes. I’m not one. I don’t have any right to judge you or anyone else. Glass houses, right?”

“You helped me above and beyond what I was paying you for. You introduced me to Amelia, among other things.”

“Well, your situation is very serious. Your 11 year-old son is being physically and verbally abused by his own father. I’d never be able to sleep at night if I didn’t do all I could to save him. You did a good part of the work yourself. You took pictures of the injuries, you saved the abusive voice messages, and you had it all before I ever got involved. I just managed to catch him in the act and take photos and video. The video will have the most impact with a jury, but everything else you collected will prove it wasn’t just a one-time thing. And I introduced you to Amelia, because she has the necessary contacts to help us, plus she’s an excellent criminal lawyer and knows exactly what will be needed to put him in jail and to get him away permanently from both of you. I did exactly what you paid me to do. But, it’s not over yet, Ebony. I want to be clear about that. It’ll now be in the hands of the Justice System. You’ll need patience. It won’t be easy. But, don’t worry. I’ll help you in any capacity you need me. I’ll testify too. Gladly. You’re now in the very capable hands of Amelia. She’s doing this pro bono for you, so you won’t have to pay her anything. And feel free to call me whenever you want, ok?”

“I still think I owe you, Sookie. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Oh hell, why not?

“Can you teach me how to work the pole? Privately, I mean?”

And of course I blushed. She looked shocked for a moment and then laughed.

“Sure, hon. You want to learn it to please your man?”

“Pfff. First, I don’t have a man. Plus, I’m not exactly the type to bend myself backwards to please anybody, much less a man. I want to learn it for me. It looks fun, I like dancing and it seems like a very demanding exercise. I like to keep in shape.”

“You go, girl. Do it for yourself. Men, they’re much more work than they’re worth.”

“Preach it, sister.” I said while I lifted up my hand and we high-fived. A long time honored tradition we the females of the species have of bonding by bitching about males. They all deserved it, I had to add.

“I have to go. I’m next onstage. I’ll call Amelia when I’m done here and I’ll see when she wants me to stop by her office. That reminds me, I’ll stop by your office tomorrow to settle my bill, ok? I have the day off.”

“Sure. You take care of yourself and little Tyson. And, please don’t contact your ex. Amelia will give you the security lecture and safety tips for when he finds out what’s happening. Let’s keep him in the dark for as long as we can, ok?”

“Yes. I’m happy right now, but I know the fear will come. I’ll deal with it, but I’m going to enjoy this news for as long as I can. See you tomorrow, Sookie. And thanks again. Oh, do you wanna stay to watch my set? Maybe you’ll learn something…” She smirked, gave me a little wave and sashayed away. 

 

I didn’t actually have anything that pressing to do, so why not watch Ebony dance away. I turned to call my waitress once again and found her standing pretty much behind my chair. I guess my big tip made her be more solicitous. I decided I was done with beer and ordered a Coke to watch my client shake her assets on the stage for the titillation of the masses.

Now what did that say about me?


	2. I'm Batman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I finally found a beta, the amazing kleannhouse. She worked her magic and fixed all the already posted chapters and she’ll be working with me on future ones. I can’t thank her enough. Any errors remaining are all mine.  
> 

**CHAPTER 2 – I’M BATMAN**

 

_**"Your problem is, you underestimate me because I'm a woman." ― Kate Daniels, by Ilona Andrews** _

__

 

**“Being A Warrior Woman:**

**Do I not seem soft and gentle,  
** My skin smooth, my hair undone  
But in my softness, my blood burns

**Rage I will on the battle-field,  
** You will know and remember my cry,  
A woman can be fierce,

**A woman is like a sleeping dragon,  
** Caution is required when you approach,  
For if it wakes, it will fly, free

**Streaming fire across the field,  
** Burning all in wrathful flames,  
I pick up my sword,  
And hold it high

**I have no fear,  
** To Valhalla  
I ride.”

**― By Unknown.**

 

,

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t have to wait long for Ebony to make her entrance. And about twenty seconds after she had made her onstage appearance I was extremely glad I had stayed to watch. That woman could dance. She was surprisingly classy and the pole became an extension of her. She was an artist at what she did. All eyes were on her and plenty of money was being thrown on the stage. I had no ambitions about becoming a stripper, but I’d definitely accept pole dance classes from Ebony. I’d be a fool not to. It was such great exercise and seemed like a lot of fun. I think I’d really enjoy doing it but only in private. Not something I’d want an audience for. I wasn’t an exhibitionist and it wasn’t going to help me with my business reputation anyway. I didn’t even have a man to show off for, although I don’t think I would even if I had a guy. Women were already objectified enough as it was, I wouldn’t want a boyfriend doing it to me too. 

 

I was thoroughly enjoying the show, but at least I wasn’t objectifying the woman performing. I was honestly appreciating her athleticism and pizazz. When I realized she was winding down and bending to collect the cash onstage, while letting the guys put bills in her bikini straps, I fished a twenty out of my wallet and made my way to the front to give her her due. I slipped the cash in the string, winked at her and told her how much I enjoyed it. I was quick about it because she was working and I was now more than ready to leave and get back to my office.

 

I quickly turned back on my way out, caught her eye and gave her a wave. When I turned back to continue on my way to the outer door trouble found me. Thankfully, I’m very well-trained in a variety of things. Some of those skills were what saved me. I’m very observant, it’s something that’s part of my personality, but also something I’ve trained in. I can also read people extremely well. No, I can’t read their minds, although some people find that skill eerie enough. I’m very adept at reading body language and micro-expressions. It’s useful when you’re a Private Investigator, a necessity really. 

 

The moment I faced the door I noticed a huge guy pushing his way through, emanating rage. I realized it was Ebony’s ex-husband, the abuser, and he was here because he had somehow found out his career as his son abuser was about to end and wanted his last say. Now, he was here to either beat Ebony or me up. This brought another realization, that someone here had listened in on my conversation with Ebony and had called him. I was betting it was that waitress. She was the only one close enough to overhear it. I have to say I now regretted giving her that tip. That bitch.

 

Now, if Tyson Sr. was here thinking that he could intimidate Ebony or me, he was in for a rude awakening. He was about to find out a couple of other skills I had. I kept walking towards him and getting away from the tables. He had been looking over my head towards the stage, watching Ebony I was guessing. He finally noticed me, and came towards me with purpose and exhaling violence. But, his big mistake was what he yelled to me.

“Hey, Bitch!”

 

There are few things I disliked as much as being referred to as ‘Hey’ and being called a bitch. This might actually be quite fun for a few minutes. I stopped a few feet away and he kept coming. 

 

“No need to shout, asshole. I’m right here.”

 

He actually sputtered. I don’t think he was used to a woman, or anyone really, not cowering when met with him and his rage. He was a huge guy. Buff and about 6 feet 3. He broadcasted badass mean dude for miles around him. I was not impressed. So, like most men of his ilk instead of using his words, he went to use his hands on me. His mistake. 

 

I confess I don’t make a formidable first impression. I’m not the least bit imposing physically. I’m medium height, blonde and blue-eyed. I’m muscular, but in the lean way you get from dance and martial arts. I’m not bulky, so when wearing a business suit I look like a very easy target. It was time Tyson Sr. learned that not everything is as it seems. It was a lesson most people with brains learned early on in life, but he didn’t seem to have much of a brain. He was a bully. And as a bully he saw me as an easy mark. His stupidity was my pleasure. It really was.

 

So, when he went to put his hands around my throat, I spread my legs a little apart, bent my knees, dropped and twisted my upper body down to the right of him, completely dodging his grabby hands. His shock worked in my favor, because even though I was trained, he was much bigger than me and although you can win a fight against a much bigger opponent, it’s harder, especially if he’s also trained. I had no idea if he was but I was pretty sure he wasn’t, because guys like him always counted on their size and attitude, so they rarely thought about getting properly trained in any martial arts. Again his loss was my gain. 

 

As I bent and twisted to escape his hands, I also stepped to his right, grabbed his arm with both hands, kept going past him and twisted his arm around his back, painfully putting pressure on his wrist and shoulder joint. The whole thing took five seconds. He was so shocked that it took him another few seconds to start screaming profanities at me and to try to get free, but the more he moved, the more his arm hurt. I decided to end things quickly, before he thought of some other way to hurt me. I kick his back none too gently to make him drop to his knees, which he did, otherwise his arm would have come out of its shoulder socket. Still not satisfied, because he was getting more enraged by the second, I used my foot again to make him lie flat on his stomach on the floor. I kept his arm in my hands and used the same foot to step on his back. The problem was he wasn’t going to stay down for long. His pride would not let him. I’d have to pop his arm off and I wasn’t really willing to do that unless I had no other choice. Which I did. 

 

I freed one of my hands that were holding his arm painfully to keep him immobile and pulled my gun out of my shoulder holster. It was 9mm Glock Pistol Model G17 and I loved it dearly. I squatted next to his face and showed him the gun. Good thing too, because I had just freed him from the arm hold and he was trying to get up. He froze. I told him to stay exactly where he was with his hands behind his back and that if he behaved like a good boy I wouldn’t shoot him. I also whispered that if he ever put his hands on his son or Ebony again I’d definitely shoot him with pleasure and that he’d never see it coming because I’d do it with a long distance rifle one day when he was walking the streets and least expected it. I looked him right in the eye when I said that. I’m pretty sure he believed me. The truth was I wouldn’t. I’m not a vigilante. But, I had a great poker face and I loved guns. I did a lot of competitive shooting when I was young. I’m an extremely good shot and I could shoot pretty much any gun in existence well, so it was true enough that I could pick him off the street anytime and that showed in my eyes. 

 

So, that’s where I found myself at lunch time on a Monday. In a Strip Club, with a child abuser on the floor under my foot with my gun trained on the back of his head. 

 

I do hate bullies. 

 

I hadn’t realized that while I was subduing the maniac I had also provided quite a show for the whole club. Patrons, strippers, waitresses and even the bouncer were all gawking at me. Most had their mouths opened. The shock would wear off soon and the people were going to start to flee the scene, so I decided to take charge. Since, I had the gun I was pretty sure they would listen. 

 

I turned to the bouncer.

 

“You! Dial 911 now! Tell the Police to come because the ex-husband of one of your employees has just tried to attack her and her private investigator. Also, do you by any chance have a pair of handcuffs?”

 

He shook his head and ran towards the phone. 

 

“Everyone else! Do not leave, do not attempt to leave, we’ll all wait for the police. We are all witnesses here.”

“Ebony? Where’s Ebony?”

 

Right then Ebony emerged from the depths of the club with a gaggle of other women, which I assumed were all the strippers that were working that day. She reached me, surrounded by her girlfriends who seemed to be acting like her protectors and moral support. This was fine, great even, but funny how they only showed up after I had dealt with the problem. But, I wasn’t being fair, I was trained and had a certain skill set that was right for this situation, they didn’t. I was just getting cranky. I had been having a good time until the asshole showed up.

 

Ebony looked down at her ex then gaped at me, and when he saw her he started to open his mouth, but after I stepped more forcefully on his back and focused the gun on the back of his head, again more firmly, he finally decided that silence was the better part of valor. Bullies, really. 

 

Wordless, Ebony passed me fuzzy red handcuffs; I looked at them then back at her.

 

“Sookie, they work and are strong just like police ones. They’re just cuter and usually used for more pleasurable purposes. Didn’t you ask Shay, the bouncer, for some?”

 

“I did. Thanks. Just a sec.”

 

I got down and put the cuffs onto Tyson Sr. Better safe, than sorry.

 

“Ebony, we need to talk. That waitress called him here after she overheard our conversation earlier. I don’t know why she did it, but you need to find out. She might be in love with him, he might be paying her to keep tabs on you and Tyson Jr., and she might just hate you. I don’t know. But, she’s dangerous to you and yours.”

 

At this the others strippers and Ebony looked outraged and the group, minus Ebony who stayed by my side, went to close in on said waitress. I felt no pity. What she did was despicable and the women weren’t beating on her, but they were going to get to the bottom of it and they would exact their revenge for her lack of loyalty to one of their own. Nothing gruesome I was sure; she’d probably have an impossible time getting any job at another strip club ever again. And if they thought she deserved a black eye for her crimes, I could live with that. Tyson Sr. could have killed me or at least hurt me pretty badly; he could have done the same to Ebony and to his son. I have no issue with women fighting women, I think that’s mighty feminist of me. Now, a man beating up a woman is unforgivable. Double standard some might say, but at least I had some standards. 

 

“Ebony, I need to call Amelia now. Can you keep an eye on him while I talk to her? Don’t worry, I’ll keep my foot on his back and the gun pointed, but I don’t want him getting any ideas if I get distracted. Just yell if he moves, ok?”

 

“Sure, Sookie.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The police would be here in minutes, so I needed to make it fast. I called Amelia, and gave her a quick run-down of what had just happened. She listened intently and said she’d be on her way and she was bringing the evidence against him that she was planning to take to the DA after lunch. It would help the police see the truth about him. I was a little apprehensive because he hadn’t actually hurt anyone. I didn’t have a scratch on me. I had witnesses but it had all happened so fast. And the moment I pulled the gun, I escalated the situation. If he wasn’t a threat anymore, why did I feel the need to point the gun? Because I knew he was still a threat, that’s why I pulled it, I avoided it at almost any cost. However, I knew how police thought and worked. I was also a lawyer, although I hadn’t practiced in ten years, but I was already preparing how to tell the whole truth the best possible away. I didn’t want attention, much less trouble with the police. It’s not good for business. People tend to take the Private part of Private Investigation pretty seriously. I did too. 

 

And so it was that when the police finally arrived, they found me in the exact position I had been for quite some minutes now. I was standing over Tyson Sr., who was lying on his stomach on the floor, his hands behind his back in red fuzzy handcuffs, my foot on the middle of his back and my Glock pointed at the back of his head. The only thing that had changed was that I was now in the middle of a circle of chairs, each occupied by a stripper. They had formed a ring around me and my prey and seemed to be having the time of their lives. Most now wanted to take self-defense classes and/or jiu-jitsu. They believed I was a superhero in disguise, which I thought was hilarious and quite pleasing since I was a huge nerd. I cracked them up when Candy first said something along those lines and I replied in a throaty voice: “I’m Batman”.

 

Damn it all to hell, but I refused to say Batgirl. One, I’m not a girl. I’m 33 years-old. Secondly, it’s a little demeaning how they always use girl: Batgirl and Supergirl; for example. Where were Batwoman and Superwoman? At least, there’s Wonder Woman. And Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, that’s two chapters today and only four reviews so far. I really need some feedback for this story. If there’s interest I’m betting I can write and post it quickly. Otherwise I lose my excitement for the story. I see so many readers putting this story in their alerts, which is awesome and I’m beyond grateful, but if you could, please, spare another minute to leave a comment, it’d be priceless to me and the story. So, please leave me your thoughts on this chapter.
> 
> Oh, and if guys leave enough reviews, Eric will show up in the next chapter. So, comments, pretty please? For the Viking? ;)


	3. The Viking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I finally found a beta, the amazing kleannhouse. She worked her magic and fixed all the already posted chapters and she’ll be working with me on future ones. I can’t thank her enough. Any errors remaining are all mine.

CHAPTER 3 – THE VIKING

 

“Fate whispers  
to the warrior:

‘You cannot withstand the storm.’

And the warrior  
whispers back:

‘I Am The Storm’.”

\- By Unknown

 

“Sometimes it’s not what you say. Valkyrie, it’s just the fact that you’re saying it.”  
― Derek Landy

 

“That which is striking and beautiful is not always good, but that which is good is always beautiful.”  
― Ninon de L'Enclos

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I should have known after all the events of today that this week was going to be a weird one. And I wasn’t wrong.

 

Thankfully, everything worked out fine in the end. The Strip Club had cameras inside which showed the police exactly what I had told them. Tyson Sr. had tried to strangle me and I had defended myself. I was further helped by the fact that my finger had never been on the trigger of my gun. That’s one of the rules of dealing with guns: don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you’re willing to shoot. I wasn’t, so that was a great point in my favor. I also had witnesses, who had been quite vocal in my defense. The fact that Tyson Sr. had a history of violence, a criminal record and was a 6 feet 3 man and I was an upstanding member of the community and a 5 feet 6 tall woman didn’t hurt. But, my ace in the hole was Amelia. She was a force of nature and an extremely good lawyer. She dealt with the police and gave them copies of our files about the abuse of his son. So, although I had to spend a couple of hours there while we all gave our statements and contact information, which I made sure Amelia and I stayed until all the strippers had been interviewed, and Tyson Sr. had been carted off to jail, in the end I was sent home without even a stern talking too. Not by the police anyway. Amelia was a different story.

 

By the time we got out of there it was mid-afternoon and Amelia dragged me to a late lunch. She was worried about me, which was an old argument. But, I still appreciated that she cared about me. She was my best friend. Our main issue was that she, like most other people I knew, couldn’t understand why I had left a promising career as a lawyer to become a private investigator. I had opened up my own shop a few years back. It was small and I dealt mostly with insurance fraud and cheating spouses. It paid the bills, I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t exactly my dream yet. I wanted it to grow. I wanted to work hard cases, more important cases. I wanted to help people. My friends tried to be understanding, but all my girlfriends had been married for years now and had at least two kids each. They all had conventional careers. They had trouble comprehending the fact that I wasn’t interested in marriage in the least and that I didn’t want to have kids. Besides being a personal choice, it irked me that still in this day and age your value as a woman was measured by your ability to catch a man and to pop some kids out. I think being a mother is the hardest job in the world and I had nothing but respect for the women who make the choice to have kids, they’re braver than me. 

 

I think one of the most important things in life is to be self-aware. I knew I wasn’t a conventional type of girl. I would never be satisfied by a conventional job and family. So, why let society pressure me into an unhappy life when I was more than capable of choosing my own path. I had had this conversation hundreds of times with Amelia, but today she decided on a different approach. Instead of the whole spiel about how I should settle down with a nice guy, have kids and go work as a lawyer at her firm, she seized upon the danger I had put myself in at the Strip Club. I tried to remind her that Tyson Sr. had gotten his ass kicked by me and I hadn’t even broken a nail. She waved me off. She was worried about the fact that I should have had back up. That I shouldn’t always work alone. That I should have a partner or at least get another assistant. 

 

She brought up good points. Not so much about my safety, that I wasn’t worried about. I worked hard enough at the shooting range and at the dojo to feel secure, but I was in need of yet another assistant. My vision for my business always included me hiring a young woman out of school as an assistant and training her for a few years to became a full-fledged private investigator and eventually a partner in the business, or at least an associate. The problem was that they never lasted. None of them had shown a real interest in becoming a PI and even worse, when a more glamorous assisting job appeared they handed in their notices and went on to bigger and better things. I had been working solo as a PI and as my own secretary/assistant for the last four months. I could have gotten a new temporary girl, but I was getting sick of the revolving door. I wanted someone to stay. Someone who would enjoy the work. Someone who would consider an investment in a career and not just a way to make a buck until something better came along. 

Amelia and I talked about that and then she surprised me. 

“That’s what I’m talking about, Sookie. If this is what you want to do with your life, you need some help. I’d feel much better if you hired someone. That way, at least you’d have a person who’d always know where you were and I think training them to help you grow the business it’s a great idea. You remember Pam, right?”

 

That gave me pause. I had never actually met Pam, but she was Amelia’s interior decorator. She was apparently fabulous and the best in her business. What did Pam have to do with what we were talking about?

 

“Sure, the infamous Pamela Ravenscroft. Don’t tell me, she decided to quit being an interior decorator and it’s dying to get into the PI business?” 

 

“You know, I appreciate your sarcasm a lot more when it’s not directed at me. You’re such a smart ass. No, Pam loves what she does, but we were talking earlier today, before your drama, and she mentioned that her best friend who also grew up here but has spent the last decade abroad is back in town and is very interested in becoming a PI. She asked me to talk to you about it. She knows you’re my best friend and a PI. So, what do you think?”

 

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. I needed more information about this girl and if she was best friends with Pam, it might not work. Pam was a notorious socialite and I couldn’t picture a socialite wanting to be a PI, especially if she had to start from the bottom up. Assistant work isn’t glamorous. It’s basically being a secretary, who I sometimes used to help me with some cases. 

 

“I think I need more information. It sounds great and exactly like what I’ve been wanting. However, why would Pam’s friend want to be a PI? Is she as fabulous as you say Pam is? And since Pam is older than us, why would a near forty year old want to be my assistant? Does she have any experience here or abroad as a PI?”

 

“I haven’t met him, Sookie. So, I can’t answer your questions. That’s something you’ll need to ask him if you agree to meet him. You can interview him properly or just meet him at your office and get some first impressions. If you don’t like him, no harm, no foul.”

 

“HIM? It’s a guy? Oh, come on! Amelia, are you high? Do you really think a guy will want to be my assistant, which basically means my secretary? Especially a guy who’s older than me? Because men usually do so well taking orders from younger and more powerful women than them. I do not have the time or inclination to allow power struggles at the office.”

 

“I see your point, Sookie. But, what do you have to lose by meeting him? He might surprise you. Not every man is that misogynistic.”

 

“Not the millennials, but guys of our generation and older generally are.”

 

“I don’t know his age. Pam’s 38 years old. He might be younger than her; he might even be a millennial.”

 

“God forbid!” I said mostly joking and crossed myself. Amelia laughed at my antics

 

“So, what do I tell Pam?”

 

“Give her my contact information. Tell her to pass it along to him, that way he can call me and schedule a time to come to the office so we can meet and talk. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll meet him.”

 

“Ok. Let me just text her right now, so I don’t forget. Your adventure today put me behind schedule. I still need to go by the DA’s Office to hand the file over on Tyson Sr. and I have to get back to my office too before going home.”

 

“I’m sorry to have disrupted your day, sweetie. But, it was for a good cause.”

 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for and indeed it was, I was glad to help.”

 

Amelia focused on her phone and was typing away. I was guessing she was talking to Pam. I sipped my wine and waited, I knew Amelia would be fast about it. I was right.

 

“Sookie, are you free tomorrow at ten am?”

 

“Yeah. I mean I don’t have any clients on the books until Friday and the last active case was Ebony’s, which is now in your capable hands.”

 

“Pam says he’ll meet you at your office tomorrow at ten.”

 

Funny how Pam was so invested in him getting this job and weird how she was the one who organized the meeting. I didn’t think I liked what it said about him that he couldn’t even call me directly. Maybe I was overthinking it and Pam was just a very overzealous friend. But, maybe not. 

 

“Fine. What’s his name?”

 

“Eric. Eric Northman.”

 

Well, Mr. Northman better watch out for me. I couldn’t say I was completely comfortable with what I just agreed to do, but as Amelia had said, I just had to meet him and if I didn’t like him that would be it. Seemed simple enough, though of course things never are. 

 

 

Tuesday Morning:

 

 

I had woken today with a very weird feeling. It wasn’t exactly foreboding, but it wasn’t warm and fuzzy either. It was kind of electric. It told me something of note would happen today. If it was going to be good or bad, I had no idea. But, it left me a little bit on edge. 

 

I couldn’t afford to be off my game. I was going to meet Mr. Eric Northman in about 15 minutes. The mysterious guy who was interested in becoming a PI and for some reason wanted to meet and maybe work for me. If what Pam said was actually true then I had no reason to doubt it. 

 

It was going to be tricky being the one in a position of power over him. In my experience, men didn’t deal well with women as their bosses. Especially if said woman was younger than them, more experienced in the area and pretty. I was all three. Unless, he had more experience than I was led to believe. If so, that would be even more difficult. I wasn’t a very patient woman, so if he annoyed me I’d get rid of him faster than you could say good riddance. 

 

I had dressed in my best black power suit, a crispy white shirt, high heels and I put my hair into a ponytail. I applied my usual make-up, not much, but just enough. I looked professional. I thought I looked like a CIA Agent, which cracked me up. But, image is a type of power and I was willing to use every tool at my disposal. 

 

I was sitting at my desk, typing some notes about yesterday into Ebony’s file when I heard a knock on the outer door. I had left the door to my office opened. Since I didn’t have an assistant to sit at the front desk, I needed to answer my own door and for that it was necessary to hear when people knocked. I really required an assistant. 

 

So, I saved the file, closed the laptop, got up and smoothed my clothes to remove any wrinkles. I stopped by the door to my inner bathroom and checked my reflection in the mirror. My hair and make-up looked fine, so I was as ready as I was going to be. Or so I thought, until I opened the door.

 

There stood the biggest and most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was drop dead gorgeous. 6 feet 5, with long blond hair, blue-eyes, incredibly fit, corded with lean muscle and just plain striking. I froze with my hand on the knob and the door half-opened. It wasn’t just his good looks that stopped me in my tracks, it was his eyes. He had incredible eyes, deep blue and intense. His eyes held a certain joie de vivre, an eternal amusement at the world, but they were also weary, shadowed. Dark things lurked in their depths. It was the eyes of someone who had gone through a great storm and came out at the other side changed and not quite whole, although the amusement there would fool most people. I knew instantly that he could be extremely dangerous if provoked, that he was troubled and trying his hardest to hide it. 

 

What saved me some embarrassment while I spent a couple of minutes making my assessment of his amazing hotness and complex eyes was the fact that he seemed to be transfixed with me as much as I was with him. I needed to move, say something, and do something. But, I was enthralled by his looks. The best I could describe was that he looked like The Viking Warrior of Myth. And so, I couldn’t resist. I opened the door fully with a flourish and said:

 

“Are you lost on your way to Valhalla, Warrior?

 

His eyes widened in surprised and he gave a booming laugh that seemed to caress me. Wow. 

 

“And that would make you my Valkyrie.”

 

He had me there. And I really appreciated his sense of humor. 

 

“Touché. Please, come in, Mr. Northman.”

 

“Thank you, Ms. Stackhouse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, how did you like their first meeting? The idea of Sookie calling him a Viking to his face and him correctly guessing her character by replying she’s a Valkyrie cracked me up. And I don’t think I ever read anyone using Eric’s Viking looks as a Norse Mythology joke, unless it was a canon story, although even then I can’t remember. You like my Eric so far? The rest of their meeting will continue in the next chapter. Please, please, leave some feedback. Thanks!


	4. Winning The Genetic Lottery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I finally found a beta, the amazing kleannhouse. She worked her magic and fixed all the already posted chapters and she’ll be working with me on future ones. I can’t thank her enough. Any errors remaining are all mine.

CHAPTER 4 – WINNING THE GENETIC LOTTERY

 

Pretty is something you're born with. But beautiful, that's an equal opportunity adjective.  
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."  
― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

 

"So, the cross is always ready and waits for you everywhere. You cannot escape it no matter where you run, for wherever you go you are burdened with yourself. Wherever you go, there you are."  
—Thomas a Kempis, Imitation of Christ, ca. A.D. 1440.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Previously:

“….  
There stood the biggest and most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was drop dead gorgeous. 6 feet 5, with long blond hair, blue-eyes, incredibly fit, corded with lean muscle and just plain striking. I froze with my hand on the knob and the door half-opened. It wasn’t just his good looks that stopped me in my tracks, it was his eyes. He had incredible eyes, deep blue and intense. His eyes held a certain joie de vivre, an eternal amusement at the world, but they were also weary, shadowed. Dark things lurked in their depths. It was the eyes of someone who had gone through a great storm and came out at the other side changed and not quite whole, although the amusement there would fool most people. I knew instantly that he could be extremely dangerous if provoked, that he was troubled and trying his hardest to hide it. 

 

What saved me some embarrassment while I spent a couple of minutes making my assessment of his amazing hotness and complex eyes was the fact that he seemed to be transfixed with me as much as I was with him. I needed to move, say something, and do something. But, I was enthralled by his looks. The best I could describe was that he looked like The Viking Warrior of Myth. And so, I couldn’t resist. I opened the door fully with a flourish and said:

 

“Are you lost on your way to Valhalla, Warrior?

 

His eyes widened in surprised and he gave a booming laugh that seemed to caress me. Wow. 

 

“And that would make you my Valkyrie.”

 

He had me there. And I really appreciated his sense of humor. 

 

“Touché. Please, come in, Mr. Northman.”

 

“Thank you, Ms. Stackhouse.” 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Eric entered my office and scanned it quickly but thoroughly. I wasn’t offended; I did the same thing when I entered a place. I was betting that in the few seconds he looked around he saw everything there was to see. Every window, door, exit and the floor layout. That let me know a couple of things about him. One, he was more than he appeared to be, although his eyes had already told me that. The second thing was that he was almost surely ex-military. The latter wasn’t only because of how he analyzed the place, but mostly the way he moved. He moved like a cat, gracefully, elegantly and ready to pounce in an instant, if needed. He appeared completely at easy and relaxed, but he wasn’t fooling me. If a threat suddenly materialized, he would react immediately and with extreme violence. His body was a work of art, functional and built with the purpose to fight and kill. His clothing was what also gave him away. He was all in black: t-shirt, jeans and combat boots. They clung to his muscular frame. He looked delicious and dangerous. 

I wasn’t worried. I presented no threat to him and his behavior seemed more like it was the result of years of training that was so well ingrained that he’d probably never be able to completely shake it off. 

I let him do his thing for a few seconds and then I spoke.

“Would you like something to drink, Mr. Northman? Coffee, tea, water?”

“Sure. If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll take a coffee, black, please.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Please, follow me.”

I took him to my little kitchen alcove which was by the right off the front desk. I had already brewed some coffee right before he was scheduled to show up. I took the carafe, selected my favorite mug and because I just couldn’t resist selected the Thor mug for him. I served both mugs. I put four spoons of sugar into mine, which got me an amused look from him and served his black. I handed him his cup and picked mine up.

He looked at it, saw the Thor logo, smirked, and looked back at me. I gave him my most innocent smile. 

He shook his head and chuckled, but made no comment. And he drank it. 

“Should we adjourn to my office, so we can talk more comfortably?”

“Sure. Please, lead the way.”

I locked the outer door on my way to my office, for privacy and security. That earned me an approving glance from Eric. 

I lead him inside my domain and gestured for him to sit in the chair in front of my desk. He sat and so did I.

“So, Mr. Northman, I have to say I’m curious why you’re interested in the PI business and especially why you’re interested in the position of my assistant. I’m hoping you can make me understand, before we discuss anything else.”

“That’s fair enough, although a rather private issue. I’ll try to summarize for your benefit.”

“I’d rather you elaborated. I can assure you I’ll be more than capable of following the whole story, although I take no pleasure in violating your privacy; I still need to know your personal reasons. You don’t own me your life story, but I find that people’s private motivations are always the most relevant.”

 

Eric regarded me for a beat and nodded. 

 

“The short version is that I have spent the last decade traveling the word. I left when I was 28 years-old and haven’t been back since. I’m now 38 years-old and I’ve decided to put down some roots here. I was tired of my nomadic life. Coming back here seemed like the obvious choice. I don’t have any family left anymore and the closest I have to it is my best friend, Pam. She’s being bugging me to come back for years, so when I was ready I did.”

 

He wasn’t telling me anything I already didn’t know or hadn’t guessed. That wouldn’t do.

 

“Mr. Northman, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know or had guessed. Pam was the one that got you this meeting through my best friend, Amelia. She also mentioned you had been abroad for a decade. Let’s try again. What did you do before you left to travel the world?”

 

“That’s not important.”

 

“I beg to differ. It’s vitally important. You’ve been vague and somewhat evasive so far, that doesn’t bode well for a future working relationship. You’re under no obligation to tell me, so if you choose not to tell me, no harm no foul. We’ll part ways amicably. It’s your choice, of course.”

 

Oh, he wasn’t happy. He really didn’t want to tell me. I didn’t understand. If I had read him correctly he was ex-military and there was no shame in that. That’s when I remembered his eyes when I opened the door. He was ashamed of something and he had been through some sort of hell. His time in the military hadn’t been easy. He was looking straight into my eyes and the shadows I had seen is his eyes before were much more pronounced now, and the joie de vivre completely gone. I didn’t want to cause him pain, but if he wanted the job with me I had to know about his previous experiences, not in detail, but I still had a right to know. Problem was, he seemed reluctant. So, I decided to speed things along. Either he was going to leave after what I planned to say or he would leave anyway because I wasn’t hiring him if he continued to behave so mysteriously. 

 

“Okay, Mr. Northman. I can see you’re not too keen to get into it. So, give me a chance to make an educated guess and if I’m right you’ll tell me so, with no further details. And if I’m wrong, well I’m rarely wrong.”

He looked doubtfully at me. He probably thought I was insane. 

“You know me for less than ten minutes and you think you can tell me about my past?”

“Yes. Are you too chicken to find out?”

“No, I’m worried about your arrogance.”

He did not say that! I glared at him.

“Let’s see if you still think I’m arrogant in a minute. You ready?”

I just said it to mock him a little.

“Do your worst.”

Damn, I was going to be more diplomatic about it before his attitude annoyed the hell out me. Not anymore though.

“You’re ex-military. Special Ops almost surely. You saw horrible shit and probably did bad things as well. You’ve killed, but in the name of our country. You did it for longer than most and in the end it wore you down. So, you quit and tried civilian life while traveling the world. You were trying to get away from your bloody past. However, it didn’t work as you hoped. Sure, it was a distraction for a while and more comfortable than serving. But, the thing you were trying to escape from wasn’t just a place out there. It was inside of you. And as the saying goes: Wherever you go, there you are.”

I spread my hands to make my point and waited for his reaction. I might have judged this poorly and he could freak out on me. But, I had this feeling that Eric rarely lost control if he didn’t want to and that he appreciated honesty. Since I was a very truthful person, it’d be nice if he got used to it quickly. 

The silent stretched out. Eric was staring at my eyes like he wanted to x-ray my brain. Finally, he spoke.

“You’re a very perceptive woman, Ms. Stackhouse.”

“How perceptive of you to notice, Mr. Northman.”

He laughed, which was exactly what I was going for. The vibe in the room had certainly gotten lighter. 

“And you aren’t afraid of me?”

“No. Should I be? You’re a soldier, not a butcher.”

“Some might disagree with you on that.”

“Wars aren’t pretty, Mr. Northman. The fact that you seem to find so difficult to carry the weight of the things you’ve done, speaks well of your character. And I have a feeling that the only person who considers you a butcher is yourself. You’re not sociopathic or psychopathic.”

“How can you know?”

“Because the main characteristics of those afflictions are lack of guilt and empathy. If you felt neither you wouldn’t have spent a decade wallowing.”

“Wallowing?”

“Brooding, hiding, running way. Call it what you like. You get my point. And I’m not judging you, just stating the facts. I’m in no way diminishing what you went through. I can’t even imagine and to be honest I don’t want to. I respect your service and the scars you carry because of it. Your past has no bearing on my decision to hire you or not. I simply needed to know what type of work you did before and what skills you might possess. Did you go to college or did you join young?”

I was sure he had joined when he was eighteen and that he hadn’t gone to college. Eric continued his heavy regard of me, but answered.

“I joined right out of high school and no, I didn’t go to college. I do speak several languages though; and I’m self-thought in a variety of subjects. I didn’t only brood during my travels, you know?”

I laughed. And his comment about his knowledge of foreign languages gave me another clue.

“Good to know. One more question, did you do intelligence work while you were in the military?”

“Among other things. How did you know?”

“Your comment about speaking other languages, although I have no doubt you added more to your list during your travels.”

He inclined his head. I realized I had thrown Eric off his game, something I was sure didn’t happen often. He hadn’t been expecting me and my insight. He had been expecting my questions and was ready to evade and give as little as possible back. It wasn’t working according to his plan. He was going to change tactics soon enough. He didn’t give the impression of a man who liked to lose, quite the contrary. I let the silence stretch. People tend to speak to break uncomfortable silences. Eric probably wasn’t one of them, but I was betting he was feeling somewhat vulnerable, something he wasn’t used to, so he would be the one to speak first. I was right.

“You’re not what I was expecting, Ms. Stackhouse.”

I bet.

“How so, Mr. Northman?”

 

“You’re very perceptive, as I already told you. You’re wise for your age and extremely bright. And…”

He seemed reluctant to continue. My curiosity was peaked. 

“And…?” I made a go on gesture

He looked me dead in the eyes and continued.

“And you’re breath-takingly beautiful.”

 

And there it was. His attempt to turn the tables. He’d have to do better than that. But, of all the things I had imagined he could have said, that hadn’t even entered my mind. It gave me pause. He said it so matter-of-factly. I could tell he was being completely honest and that he hadn’t said it with any lust, desire or heat. It was said as a statement of fact. Like he simply had said: You’re blonde. I couldn’t deny it did things to me. I didn’t think a man had ever said those words to me before. Especially not a man as gorgeous as Eric.

Many thoughts and possible replies came to mind, but what came out of my mouth was:

“So are you.”

 

His eyes widened and he looked utterly shocked. But, I went on.

 

“Let’s not play coy, Mr. Northman. You are a very handsome man and I’m not blind. Apparently, you find me attractive also. So, should we congratulate each other on randomly winning the genetic lottery, high five and have it done?

He gave another of his booming laughs that warmed me all over. Still, I kept going.

“However, I’m guessing your good looks aren’t your best attribute are they? They aren’t mine either.”

 

At that he gave me a sharp look. And I once more gleaned something about him. Eric might be a man, but he had been objectified by his looks. His beauty had hindered him somehow in his life. He had to work harder to be taken seriously. I was also betting that women threw themselves at him, which I could very well understand, but I bet most weren’t interested in knowing the real him since they would be too dazzled by the exterior. Don’t get me wrong, I was sure he enjoyed being that handsome and probably took every advantage it afforded him. He had learned to work it to his benefit, something that came with age and experience. And with that realization, my estimation of him grew. After all, I knew all about being objectified. Sure, I knew I had had way worse than him, but he had had a taste of it, knew how it felt and he clearly didn’t enjoy it. I respected that.

“Touché, Ms. Stackhouse. Touché.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED…
> 
> A/N: Sooooo, what did you guys think of their interaction? I confess this chapter was hard to write. I’m still not sure I got the tone right. I’d appreciate some feedback, because I have two different ideas on how the rest of their interaction might go in the next chapter. I beg you, let me know your thoughts. Thanks!!!


	5. An Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I finally found a beta, the amazing kleannhouse. She worked her magic and fixed all the already posted chapters and she’ll be working with me on future ones. I can’t thank her enough. Any errors remaining are all mine.

CHAPTER 5 – AN UNDERSTANDING

 

“The highest compact we can make with our fellow is – Let there be truth between us two for evermore.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” – Norman Cousins

 

“I have a loyalty that runs in my bloodstream, when I lock into someone or something, you can’t get me away from it because I commit that thoroughly. That’s in friendship, that’s a deal, that’s a commitment. Don’t give me paper – I can get the same lawyer who drew it up to break it. But if you shake my hand, that’s for life.” – Jerry Lewis

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“So, Mr. Northman, now that we got that out of the way can we continue on to more relevant topics?”

“By all means.”

“Why do you want to become a PI, if that’s indeed what you wish?”

“Can I be candid, Ms. Stackhouse?”

“This’d go much better if you were.”

“The truth is that there aren’t that many career paths opened to me at my age and with my specific background. I have no wish to go back to the military or work in law enforcement. I’m also not built to work at a conventional business office. And since I don’t have a college degree that point is moot anyway. Being a private investigator appeals to me. It’s not exactly a conventional job and I believe my skill set would be an asset. I’d also like to help people, on my own terms, and not as a cog in a government machine. I’m done bumming around the world. I want to put down some roots and find a career that I can be proud of.”

 

What Eric had said made sense. It was the most honest and direct answer he had given me so far, which I appreciated. 

 

“I can see how that makes sense, but why not open your own PI firm? You have worked in intelligence, so you already have some skills necessary for the job.”

 

“I could open my own shop, but why would I? I don’t have any experience in this area yet. Yes, I worked intelligence, and although my knowledge will be useful, being a PI is quite different than gathering intelligence for our government. You usually work with a team and follow orders. A Private Investigator has a lot more autonomy. If I opened my own PI business I’d be inexperienced. I would have a hard time finding clients at first, which would not be an issue at an already established business. I take pride in any job I do and I want to be good at it. If I went at it alone it would take me a long time to be successful. However, and most importantly, I believe in learning a business from the ground up. Maybe it’s still the military in me, but you start at the bottom and then climb the ranks.”

“But why work for me? There are other PI Agencies, a few quite bigger than mine. I’m sure a lot of them would jump at the chance to hire you.”

“Many reasons, actually. Most of these other agencies would probably use me as muscle. And I’m done being muscle for any organization. Also, as you so insightfully realized I’m not too keen on disclosing my past work in the military. Besides being private, most of the work I did is classified. Lastly, I did my homework. Your business might not be the biggest, but you have a solid reputation as someone who is fair, does good work and can be trusted. I respect that. Furthermore, you have an opening.”

“You do realize that the opening I have is for the position of my assistant? Which in reality means a glorified secretary? I’m not sure that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No. It isn’t. Not in the long term, but I’d have to start somewhere. I was also given to understand that although you’re looking for an assistant you want to hire someone to train to become a PI and help with your work load. Isn’t that right?”

Amelia had been busy talking about me with Pam, it seemed.

 

“Yes. That’s right. But you’d still have to do the assistant work. Answer the phone, schedule meetings, serve refreshments, open the door, file, and so on. I can train you on what I know as a PI while you’re my assistant, but you’ll need to do both jobs and do them well. Do you think you can do that?”

 

“I think I’m more than equal to the task.”

 

“We’ll see about that. But before I agree to hire you, there’re some other things we need to discuss.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“You do realize that I’ll be your boss, right? You’ll have to obey my orders in this office and out in the field when we are working. You can’t contradict me, argue with me or disagree with me in front of clients or sources. You can do all that in private. I’ll welcome and encourage your input always. You can feel free to disagree with me and make suggestions, but not in public. We need to present a united front and you’d be my subordinate. You’ll always have to defer to me. If you can’t live with that, we have nothing more to discuss.”

“I have absolutely no problem with that.”

I gave Eric a measured look. He seemed like he was being truthful, but that was too important a point to let it go so easily. He noticed my scrutiny. 

“One thing we learn quite well in the military, Ms. Stackhouse, is following orders.”

“And following MY orders won’t be an issue for you?”

“Why would it be?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Because I’m a woman? Because I’m younger than you by five years? Because as you yourself said, I’m breath-takingly beautiful?

“So…? I have zero problems with anything you just mentioned. You’re a woman? You don’t say? I hadn’t actually noticed. You’re younger than me? I also hadn’t figured that out. And you’re beautiful. Well, I won’t lie. That I had noticed.”

He smiled and winked at me. Now he was just being a smart ass.

“Your attempt at levity is not assuaging my fears, Mr. Northman.”

“Your question was condescending. But, fine. I’ll answer it seriously. I have no issues with your gender. I respect women immensely. I was raised by a woman and my best friend in the whole wide world is a woman. You might be younger than me, but those five years you mentioned are also five years of experience in this business you have over me. And your beauty, as you so wisely said, is not the most interesting thing about you. I’m betting your competence is, among other things. So no, I won’t have any problems following your lead if you treat me fairly and with respect, which I have no doubt you will.”

Okay then. That was a good answer. 

“Okay, Mr. Northman. Fair enough. Now, the bad news. The truth is I can’t pay you what you’re worth. The budget for my assistant is small. This agency isn’t actually thriving. It’s in its growing stages. I’m hoping with your addition we can grow the business to its full potential. But, until then your salary would be quite small, appropriate for the secretary of a small business and not for a real PI in training.”

I wrote a number on piece of paper and passed it to him.

“Can you live with that for now? I can promise that as the business and your contribution to it grows, I’ll raise your pay accordingly.”

Eric barely looked at the number and nodded. That was weird. I kept staring at him, willing him to say something. He finally did.

“I can live with that.”

No. That was too easy. That salary would not be enough to support him; it wasn’t enough to support me. 

“Are you sure, Mr. Northman? Because I can’t promise when or if I’ll be able to give you a raise anytime soon. I don’t mean to pry, but I need to know why this salary didn’t seem to faze you.

There was a pause. Eric looked away. He seemed embarrassed, why I couldn’t guess. I waited. His reply was important to me.

“Money isn’t everything, Ms. Stackhouse. You’re offering me a chance at a new career and are willing to teach me what you know. That in itself is already a form of payment. It’s a kind of training not many people can provide.”

“That’s not all. Why were you embarrassed just now?

 

That earned me a sharp look from Eric. I unnerved him when I read him so well. Well, tough luck he’d have to get used to it. Plus, I was sure he was reading me as well. He hadn’t showed me his hand yet, but I had no doubt he saw a lot more about me than what he was saying. With a heavy sigh, he answered. 

 

“Because I’m going to sound like a privileged asshole. But, since nothing seems to escape your notice, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not concerned with the money, because I already have more money than I deserve or know what to do with. My family left me very well-off when they passed away and I’ve lived frugally for the most part. I have my own place, a car, and I can pay all my bills. If I’m careful and smart about it I could chose not to work at all and live in relatively comfort. Don’t get me wrong, I want to earn money. I want a career I’m proud of and that rewards me financially also, but I want to build it. I don’t plan on living off the generosity of my parents for the rest of my life; however it affords me the luxury to choose this job at this salary until things evolve. I do hope that doesn’t affect the way you view me.”

 

I could see why he was embarrassed. He would sound like a privileged asshole to anyone who lived paycheck to paycheck or struggled to pay their bills. But, I couldn’t throw stones, since I lived in a similar glass house. My family had also all passed away and being the only living relative, I inherited everything they had. I too was well-off. It was what had allowed me to walk away from a law career to become a PI. I had invested some of the money that was left to me to open this place. It wasn’t something I discussed with many people. Money never was, especially when you’re privileged and haven’t actually done anything to deserve it. I hadn’t earned that money, I only paid for it in grief. I’d give all of it back to have just one more day with my loved ones. I knew all about losing the people you loved and being left with their money, as if that was an adequate consolation prize. It wasn’t natural to have loss so profound and gain financially from it. It was a sort of blood money. I was betting Eric felt the same way. He was so worried about how his confession would affect how I saw him. He was looking at me intently and warily waiting for my response. But, the only thing I was feeling towards him now was a sort of kinship.

 

“Actually, Mr. Northman, it does affect how I view you, but not in the way you’re thinking. I appreciate your honesty, I know it wasn’t easy for you. So, I’m going to tell you something about me to lay your fears to rest. I don’t judge your situation, because I’m on the same boat as you. I too have lost all my family and have been left well-off. It certainly isn’t a defining characteristic of mine, as I’m sure it’s not one of yours. The money, I mean. The loss, well, that unquestionably does defy us to an extent, does it not?

He wasn’t expecting that. He froze for a moment, then tilted his head and observed me like I was a rare bird. I was about to speak, when he did. 

“We’re more similar than I anticipated.”

“It does seem so, Mr. Northman.”

“Can I ask you two questions? And would you be so kind as to answer them as candidly as possible?”

That was oddly specific, but I didn’t see the harm. If he was going to accept the job, which seemed like he was, he had every right to ask as many questions as he wanted. Actually, if he didn’t ask anything I wouldn’t feel comfortable hiring him. At least, he was taking this seriously. 

“Feel free, but you should know that I’m always very honest and straight-forward. I try my best not to lie, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

He nodded. I think he had already realized that about me. 

“What do you value most?”

That was a weird question, but I replied with the first thing that popped into my head.

“Loyalty.”

He nodded again, more slowly. Mostly to himself, I thought.

“What do you hate the most?”

“Bullies.” That came out without any conscious thought.

 

He gave me a penetrating stare and I realized that my answers to these questions were crucially important to him. I could also see that what I said had pleased him and that I had risen in his estimation. That told me he held similar values as mine. That he prized loyalty and didn’t suffer bullies. We were indeed more similar than both of us had anticipated. That boded well. My decision was made, I’d give Eric a chance. I’d hire him in a trial-basis for now. 

“Is that it, Mr. Northman?”

“Actually, I have one more question.”

“Fire away.”

“We talked about my training and about your wish to grow this business, so this might be presumptuous of me but if things work out, and I’m not looking for a timeline right now, would you consider adding me as a partner?

“If things work out, that’s a strong possibility. But, that will take time. The business needs to grow first, our professional relationship has to work and you’ll have to take a PI course and the pass the exam. I might first make you an associate, but if you earn it I’d have no problem having a partner. Which brings up a question for you.”

“How so?”

“Let’s say I do everything we talked about. I train you, I invest my time and energy in you. You learn the business and become a PI. What’s stopping you from walking away from my agency to open up your own?”

“Nothing. Except for the fact that I too value loyalty. You’re taking a chance on me and are willing to train me. I’ll hopefully help you grow this business. Why would I betray you? Why would I leave? Unless our work situation deteriorated, I’d have no reason to want to change something that was working. And if our professional relationship sours or I’m unhappy with anything, I’ll tell you, as I hope you’d tell me, and we can try to work it out. If it isn’t fixable, than its better if I leave anyway.”

That was quite logical. I like how rational and practical Eric seemed to be. I valued those qualities, because I also possessed them and used those most often. 

“Fair enough, Mr. Northman. If you still want the job, you’re hired. I’d be hiring you on a trial basis, so we’ll revisit this in a month. Can you accept those terms?”

“Yes. Should we shake on it?”

I smiled, got up and extended my hand. He also got up, dwarfing my office and we shook. He had huge hands and a firm grip. He smiled back and then we both sat back down. 

“I’d prefer if you called me Eric, Ms. Stackhouse.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Eric. Please, call me Sookie.”

“When do you want me to start, Sookie?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“No, it’s fine. What time should I be here?”

“Nine. That’s when I usually arrive. I’ll give you the spare set of keys from the last assistant so you can let yourself in. I should also give you a tour of the office and show you somethings before you go, that is, if you’re free right now.”

“I am. Please, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So? What are your thoughts on this chapter, specifically their interaction? Please, let me know! Thanks in advance.


	6. The Ruse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My amazing beta, kleannhouse, waved her wand and worked her magic in this chapter. As usual, I can’t thank her enough. Any errors remaining are all mine.

CHAPTER 6 – THE RUSE

 

“I always did something I was a little not ready to do. I think that’s how you grow. When there’s that moment of, ‘Wow, I’m not really sure I can do this,’ and you push through those moments, that’s when you have a breakthrough.”  
\- By Marissa Mayer

 

“All the games now are important. It's us just coming together as a team, fighting a little bit harder, turning up the concentration a little bit more. It's getting close to that time.”  
\- By Glenn Murray

 

“Love is blind, but friendship closes its eyes.”  
\- By Friedrich Nietzsche

 

“You are my person.”  
\- Cristina Yang to Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

 

“If I murdered someone, she’s the person I’d call to help me drag the corpse across the floor.”  
\- Cristina Yang to Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

 

“Sometimes it's not the people who change, it's the mask that falls off.”  
\- By Haruki Murakami

 

“Being single is much wiser than being in a fake relationship.”  
\- By Unknown

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

About 3 months later from the previous chapter:

 

Time was going by smoothly after I hired Eric. We got along great; we shared the same thoughts on our work ethics and on our client’s issues. We got along fabulously. Due to this, it seemed like we had been working together for years, even though it had only been a few months. I came to trust Eric more than I trusted anyone; and in a very short period of time. Yes, I have had trust issues in the past, especially with men. It is one of the reasons I am still single. 

However our current case was starting to bog me down both mentally and physically. I was exasperated beyond belief. My frustration was driving me crazy. The more I thought about the case and how best to resolve it, the more I realized there was only one logical and practical solution. I had wanted to avoid it all together, find another answer and store it in the back of my mind for another day, but I couldn’t keep going on like this, my head was rhetorically spinning in circles over the it. Enough was enough. Plus, in general, I was never one to dillydally when I should act. 

The problem with the case was that what had seemed like an easy job had become more problematic than what I expected when I first took it.

Mrs. Constance Gilmore was the client. Pamela had recommended her to our agency, one of the many perks of having Eric as an assistant. Pam knew people. She was very well connected and she was ecstatic that not only had Eric found a job he liked, but more importantly he had finally come back home for good. 

Constance was in her sixties, married, exceptionally wealthy and one of those notorious socialites that were charitably called ‘Ladies Who Lunch’. She was not the one causing me issues. She was actually a very pleasant woman and so far a great client. However, her husband was slick. She had hired me to catch her spouse in flagrante delicto. She had, by an innocent but fortuitous mistake, overheard on her landline extension her husband talking to his secretary; who now appeared to clearly be his mistress. She had known for years that he had been double-timing her, but not since that fateful phone call had she been completely certain about whom the other woman was. She needed me to get irrefutable proof so that she could have her prenup voided, divorce his ass and get half of what was rightfully hers. I had no misgivings about that. He was a cheater and she had helped him build his extensive empire over their 40 year marriage, she was owed her half. 

The problem was that even though we knew about his affair, it had been hard to pinpoint exactly where and how it was happening. Mr. Gilmore was a man who followed a strict routine. He went to work and came back home every day at the same time. He had lunch every day with his colleagues. He spent his weekends with his wife and family. The only exception to his rather tedious schedule was his weekly Thursdays’ night poker game at this private club. It started at 7pm and he was always home before midnight, come hell or high water. If I didn’t trust what Constance had heard, I’d have chalked her up to being a paranoid wife. But, I could tell she was being truthful to us. It was one of my talents. Eric had also agreed, which I appreciated since I had come to trust him and his opinions enormously.

We had been following Mr. Gilmore for over two weeks now. We knew everything we needed to know about him and his patterns. The only free time he had to conduct his affair was during his poker games. At first that had appeared unlikely. Poker games are not places renowned for their sexual activity. However, his secretary had always accompanied him and that was the only time they were alone outside of their office. Unless they had only been sexually active in their workplace, game night was the only other opportunity. My suspicions had been proven right. The poker game was not a card game at all and the club, well, it was a different and specialized kind of establishment altogether. After some reconnaissance, Eric and I had found out the truth about the building and about what went on in there.

Which brought me to my current predicament and irritation. It might be foolish of me, but I was not at all pacified with my newly developed plan. 

Since this new plan was the only way I saw to solve this case quickly and efficiently, my decision was made. It had me pacing back and forth in my office, but with the plan in mind, reluctantly though I might be about it, I had stopped wearing out the floor. I took a deep calming breath and went to sit at my desk. 

Now, I just needed to confer with Eric. We had been operating effectively together for a few months now and things had been going extremely well. He had been working incredibly hard and was doing even better than I had expected. He was exceptionally suited to being a PI and his work as my assistant had been perfect. He never complained, even about the more mundane tasks and always deferred to me. Eric was competent in the extreme, brilliant and professional. The truth was that I was extraordinarily lucky to have him. 

I valued his judgement immensely and he had become an integral part of my work life. In a very short period of time he had become an important part of my personal life as well. We had a similar sense of humor, the same values, as well as many other important and not so important things in common and we were both closeted nerds. I now considered him a very dear friend.

Nevertheless, I was a bit apprehensive about the plan I had created in my head and how Eric would react to it. I was sure he wouldn’t mind or even consider it an issue, but it made me somewhat uncomfortable and I wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another part of the job. It’d be fine and we’d have the case closed in a couple of days. I was probably just being silly. 

That sobered me up quickly. I was better than that. It was a minor thing, really. But, it’d be the first time I’d use that particular ruse to get results. And I would need Eric’s help. So, I dialed his extension at our front desk. 

“Hi Sookie, you need something?”

“Hey. Could you come into my office, please. We need to talk.”

“Sure, I’d be right there.”

It was kind of ridiculous calling him on the phone when he was just sitting outside my closed office door, but I didn’t think it was very professional to be yelling his name anytime I needed him to come into my lair so we could talk privately. 

It took him a few minutes, which I found strange since he had been right outside. However, as soon as he entered I understood why it had taken him so long. He was carrying two steaming mugs of coffee, which I welcomed whole heartily. He was indeed a fantastic assistant. He handed me my favorite mug deferentially, inclined his head in my direction, and muttered straight-faced:

“Khaleesi.” 

I gave him my usual reply, completely mimicking his attitude.

“Thor.”

That was one of our inside jokes. My favorite mug was black and had Mother of Dragons written in big bold white letters. His usual cup was blue and had an image of Thor on it. We had had this routine since his first day working for me. It was our usual greeting every morning. He always made the coffee and we performed our little skit to our mutual amusement. It was fun. And although it was the middle of the afternoon now, I still appreciated the fresh coffee and the banter.

He gave me a tentative smile. He settled into the chair in front of my desk. Lounging would be a more accurate term for how he placed himself. Eric usually sat like he was a king on display on a throne enthralling his subjects. Relaxed, slightly bored and sexy as hell. I didn’t customarily mind it, quite the contrary, but today I was finding it difficult to ignore his magnetic appeal. I really didn’t need that type of distraction right now. 

“Is everything okay, Sookie? You know, most conversations that start with ‘we need to talk’ don’t usually end well for the recipient of said line.”

He gifted me with a disarming smile. Although, I was used to it by now, it never got old. He smiled and joked often in my presence, which I knew was a special privilege given only to Pam and now me. It warmed my heart and also a few other body parts that I was not ready or willing to admit to, if ever. I compartmentalized the shit out of it. As lovely as he was, inside and out, he was my employee. And a very good one at that. Great help was hard to find, while stunning guys were a dime a dozen. 

One of the many reasons I appreciated having Eric around was that he seemed to find humor in almost any situation and he was always trying to make me feel better when I needed it. I knew he could sense I was a little tense. We had this uncanny ability to read each other exceptionally well, more so than we did with other people. And reading people well was something both of us excelled at. 

I couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“While I always enjoy your humor, Eric. I’m serious and before you make another joke, you should know you have nothing to worry about. I just want to discuss Constance’s case. I’ve come to a decision on how to finally close it.”

“Great. Let’s hear it.”

“Well, since we realized his poker game is not a game at all, at least not the type of game we thought of; but instead a swinger’s club that he frequents with his paramour, I see only one sure way to close the case as quickly as possible.”

“I can’t wait to hear it. However, you don’t have to worry about closing the case so rapidly. Mrs. Gilmore is loaded, she can afford a lot more billable hours and she never gave us a time frame.”

“That doesn’t matter. We have been working for her for over two weeks now, which should have been more than enough time to get the proof she needs. Plus, I don’t care if she’s the richest woman on earth; I refuse to charge my clients more than strictly necessary.”

Eric smiled.

“One of the many reasons I respect and admire the hell out of you. Your honesty is commendable.”

I didn’t know how to respond to the compliment. Eric would sometimes praise me and it always left me vaguely uncomfortable and unsure on how to react. So, I wisely chose to ignore it.

“You want to hear my plan? I’ll actually need your help to accomplish it.”

“Of course. Although, you know I’ll help you with whatever it is. Besides being my job, I hope you know you can always count on me. Both professionally and personally.”

I was touched and I felt the same way towards him. We were more than only co-workers; we were close friends now. Or at least, that’s how I viewed him. I wasn’t sure what his thoughts were on the matter. 

“I’d feel much better if you heard it all before you agreed to help. It’s only fair.”

“By all means. I’m all ears.”

Damn, I was stalling. I was anxious about his reaction. I needed to cut my nervousness out immediately. 

“Okay. But, I need you to hear me out fully before you make any comments.”

He nodded his agreement. 

“So, we know that his affair, or should I say affairs, occur inside the swinger’s club. I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I believe the simplest solution is for us to act like a swinging couple to get into the club inconspicuously and get our proof. We’d need to convincingly pretend to be a couple. It’s a ruse I have never used before.”

Eric regarded me carefully before replying. 

“I had already considered that.”

What? 

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Eric was exceedingly bright. If I had come to that deduction, it made total sense that he had too. Then, why hadn’t he proposed it?

“Why didn’t you suggest it? You know I value your input.”

“I knew you’d reach the same conclusion. And you did. Just a day after I did. Plus, I wanted it to be your idea.”

“Why?”

Eric sighed and looked at me intently. 

“Because I wanted you to be relaxed about this plan. Nevertheless, even though you have reached the same conclusion, you’re uncomfortable about it. Why is that?”

That was a loaded question. I had no idea how to explain it. I wasn’t even sure what exactly was bothering me. No, that wasn’t the whole truth and I was self-aware enough to know one of the main reasons why. I was afraid of playing the role of Eric’s woman, of pretending to be a couple; which was unusual. I had played many ruses in the course of my career and I was pretty sure if it were anybody else besides Eric, I wouldn’t feel this way. I was not immune to Eric’s many charms. I just chose to ignore them and shove them in the very back of my mind. In a heavily locked room, with many padlocks, chains and possibly a dragon keeping guard. 

This gave me pause. 

The silence stretched. Eric kept watching me.

“Is the thought of having to play my lover that distressing to you?”

“NO!.... Of course not.” I lied. That was so unlike me to throw out a white lie like that. But, what could I have said? And yet I still wasn’t done. 

“And wait, lover?” My brain had seized on that particular endearment. Heavens know why I fixated on that.

“Sookie, it’s a swinger’s club. It fits. Would you rather I called you sweetie or honey? That’d hardly go along with our ruse.”

“I’m not calling you lover.” It came out more forcefully than I intended.

Eric laughed. 

“Is the term lover so unpalatable to you?”

“No!... It’s just so… Well, explicit and intimate.”

“That’s the idea. If you don’t feel comfortable calling me lover, what term would you’d like to use?”

“Baby.” And without thought that just came out of my mouth. Fuck! 

Eric struggled with it for a minute. At first it seemed like he was going to protest the word. I wasn’t sure any woman had ever called him baby. He was too much of a man for that term of endearment. He was just too much. He was too big, good looking, manly, striking and imposing; just to name a few of his attributes. Then, he finally decided on a reply that seemed to please him very much. 

“That’s fine with me, if you don’t mind me calling you lover. You calling me baby actually suits you. It’s sweet and endearing.”

I was not used to being called sweet or endearing. It was jarring. I pressed on anyway.

“That brings me to my next point. I’ll need you to take the lead on this one. I think it’d be more convincing if I play the reluctant new lover trying to please her man and you can act like the experienced partner who’s introducing me to this new world. I’ll play coy and you can be as cocky as you like.”

“You, COY?”

He gave out an overtly amused laugh; it was one of his many laughs that I enjoyed so much. 

“Well, I’d be acting.”

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. 

“So, are we in agreement?”

“Sure. It would be worth it just to see you playing bashful and it’ll be my first time taking point on a case. Or at least on a ruse to solve a case. I’m glad you have that much trust in me. So, when are we doing this?”

“Tonight, if you don’t mind. It’s Thursday. If we don’t do this today we’ll have to wait another week. Best to have it done and over with as soon as possible.”

“That’s fine. Although, I’d have to go home and change before we leave. What does one wear to a swinger’s club?” He wondered aloud.

His question seemed more to himself than to me, but to my utter shame I had a case of verbal vomit and some words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. A brain filter malfunction. 

“Black leather pants and a black wife-beater.”

I blushed. Eric looked surprised and very gratified. He smiled joyously. 

“Have you been thinking about me in that outfit for long?” He half joked, half seriously inquired. 

The truth was I had. A lot more often than I cared to admit ever since the day he walked into my office door all in black and looking for a job. I lied yet again; I really hoped telling white lies were not a new habit I was forming. And I hated most of all lying to Eric.

“No, it’ll just compliment my outfit and I think it’ll make us fit in well.”

“You already picked out your outfit? You have given this plenty of thought.”

I had. I always did. I took my cases very seriously. 

“Of course I have. You know me. I’m a planner. Additionally, I already have this dress that I never had the guts to wear. It’s time to put it to good use. And I’m sure both of our garments will get us in the door.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” He winked at me. 

I rolled my eyes at him.

“Let’s save the flirting for tonight, when it’ll be needed. You’re already having too much fun and we haven’t even started the subterfuge yet.”

I might have read him wrong, which was unlikely, but he looked a bit hurt. I didn’t understand why. And I wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole right now. I continued to talk. 

“I need to get out of here. I want to work some of my excess energy off, so I’ll be good to go later. I’ll also need to change. Should we meet at the club around 7:30pm, that way we know he’ll already be there? I don’t fancy spending more time there than absolutely necessary.”

“You’re anxious about it. I don’t get it. You’re always so unflappable. Also, let me pick you up. There’s no need to take both of our cars and it’ll seem more natural if we arrive together.”

He had a point.

“That makes sense. Pick me up at 7:15 at my place, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He rarely called me boss, unless he was joking. I guessed he was still trying to ease my anxiety. Eric was great like that. 

“Go home yourself. There’s not much else you can do here for now. Just forward the calls to the office to your mobile, in case a client calls while we’re out.”

“Will do. Just get out of here and try to relax. I’ll see you later.”

I got up from my desk, walked passed Eric with the intention of leaving. I was stopped by his hand on my arm. It was gentle but firm. I froze instantly. Eric had never touched me like that before and we were too close. It was unexpectedly intimate. His huge hand had easily encircled my entire upper arm. He was holding me very carefully, almost tenderly. I looked up at him.

“You’ve never been to a swinger’s club, have you?” He probed. 

“No. Why, have you?”

“No. I don’t share.” That was said with a fierce intensity. He carried on.

“Is this the reason why you’re tense?”

“One of them. Mostly I’m worried about the patrons. I don’t want anyone, especially a man, touching me. I’m not looking forward to being pawed at and I’m afraid of how I’d react. Probably with violence and that will blow our cover.”

It wasn’t until I had spilled my guts to Eric, that I realized how true that was. It’d be much more difficult to act as a swinger around the other regulars, than it’d be to pretend to be in a relationship with Eric. The latter was hardly a hardship. He was appealing enough, and not only physically, though that was what most women usually focused on.

Eric pulled me closer. We were only inches apart now. He looked intently into my eyes for a couple of seconds and said something so ferociously and in such a low and cold voice; one which I had never heard come out of his mouth before. The only thing I could do was stare into his mesmerizing blue eyes. That tone of voice was chilling, especially since it held no bravado. It was a statement of fact, delivered in a fierce and even tone which made him sound deadly serious.

“Nobody will touch you on my watch. That I promise you.” 

He sounded like a medieval knight making a sacred vow. Maybe he was. I completely believed him. He had my utter faith. He looked a bit longer into my eyes, seemed to see something he liked, and freed my arm. I moved a little further from him. I needed a little space. That had been too intense. 

“Thank you, Eric. I know I can trust you” I said solemnly. Not satisfied, I felt an urge to keep speaking; to give him something in return. 

“That’s one of the many reasons you’re my person.” I finished and kept walking out. I was almost out of the door when I was stopped by his voice. He had whispered, but I somehow had heard him anyway. 

“I am?” He asked sounding astonished.

At that, I turned back to look at him. He seemed perplexed. I saw many emotions pass through his eyes, but they were there and gone so fast I couldn’t decipher them quickly enough.

“Yes. It’s actually another nerdy quirk of mine. It’s a frequently repeated quote from a favorite TV Show of mine. Grey’s Anatomy. Have you ever watched it?

He gave me a look. Right, it was a “girlie” series. 

“No, I haven’t. Even so I can glean the meaning. Your person can be a guy or a girl, no matter your own gender. It’s not romantic. It’s the name you put down as your emergency contact. The person you call if you kill someone and need help disposing the body. A best friend of sorts, but even more than that. It’s someone you trust above all others.”

Well, for someone who had never actually watched the show he had gotten the meaning dead on. It was kind of self-explanatory, especially to someone as insightful as Eric. 

“Yes.” I said simply.

“I thought that would be Amelia for you.”

I pondered that carefully. 

“She was and still is in some ways. But, Amelia and I are very different people with distinctive goals and lifestyles. I trust her immensely, but she doesn’t get me. Not entirely. She wants me to be more like her. She has always wanted me to change. You appreciate me exactly as I am. You get me.”

“I do.” He replied sincerely and with great conviction. 

I nodded and tried to leave once more, only to be stopped again by his words. 

“You’re my person too, Sookie.” He sounded stunned, by his own confession, and realization, or both; I didn’t dare venture a guess.

“I was sure that was Pam.” It made total sense to me. They were like siblings. 

“What you said about Amelia, also applies to Pamela. She’s my sister, although not biologically. You’re my person.”

I was very moved but had no idea what to say, so I took the cowards way out and made my escape. After all, I had a night at a swinger’s club with Eric to prepare for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So you liked it? Did the time jump work or not? What about their banter?
> 
> I’m thinking the next chapter might be a flashback. It’d show how Pam and Sookie met and have some action. Plus, some important background on the Sookie/Eric dynamic. How do you feel about that? Pam is fantastic, but I also know you guys are dying to read about how their adventure at the swinger’s club will go down. 
> 
> As usual, please, be kind and leave me some comments. The story is at a crucial point now. Any input will be invaluable. Thanks!


	7. Eric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m sorry for the delay, but Eric wanted to have his say. I struggled against it and it was very hard writing his POV in this story. I can’t say that I’m completely happy with the result, but if I didn’t post it I’d never be able to get rid of Eric to write the next chapter. 
> 
> As usual the superhuman kleannhouse beta’d this chapter while sick. She is my hero. She deserves my undying gratitude. 
> 
> patty.fullwood was also a big help. She read the first draft and gave me invaluable advice. I confess I did listen to it, however I’m saving most of it for a next Eric POV. I don’t want to reveal too much just yet. But, one of the lines she mentioned jokingly made it in. Thanks, Patty!
> 
> This chapter almost caused me a nervous breakdown, I hope you enjoy it and that it enlightens you. Please, let me know what you think!

“I fell in love like you would fall asleep: slowly and then all at once.”  
\- By John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

 

“One does not fall in love; one grows into love, and love grows in him.”  
\- By Karl A. Menninger

 

“To fall in love with someone’s thoughts: the most intimate, splendid romance.”  
\- By Sanober Khan

 

“Do not fall in love with the face and body. Fall in love with the spirit, heart and character.”  
– By Unknown

 

“I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul. This world is so guarded and fearful. I appreciate rawness so much.”  
\- By Emery Allen

 

"They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that's true."  
– By Daniel Wallace, Big Fish

 

“I didn’t want to fall in love, not at all.  
But at some point you smiled, and holy shit, I blew it.”  
– By Unknown

 

“I have completely fallen for you. Everything you do, everything you say, everything you are. You’re my first thought in the morning, you’re my last thought before I fall asleep, and you’re almost every thought in between.”  
\- By Unknown

 

“I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.”  
\- By Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

 

"It’s physics. Pure physics. I'm falling fast and faster still. So fall with me. Fall down with me. And stay." – By Cecily von Ziegesar

 

*****************************************************

 

As I sit here and muse to myself I have come to the following conclusions about my boss.

 

Sookie Stackhouse is the most extraordinary woman I have ever met. Incredibly, she has no idea how rare and impressive she truly is. 

 

She is honest in the extreme, but also unbelievably kind. She is fierce, brave, loyal and one of the most brilliant people I have had the honor of meeting. She is frighteningly insightful and extremely wise, especially for her young age. She is competent, efficient, observant and incredibly fair.

 

She is also funny as hell. She makes me laugh more than anybody else I had ever met. I was happy that I could make her laugh too. We alleviate our loads with our banter. She is sharp as a whip. Her mind is an incredible place; she is quick thinking, decisive, and the take action kind of person that’s so rare nowadays. She never ran from anything and she didn’t hide. She faced each situation and challenge with her head held high with dignity and a self-assurance that was impressive and sexy as all get out. She is a confident woman, and there isn’t anything sexier than that. 

 

She is an utter nerd and that makes her even more endearing and appealing to me. She is shameless about her nerdiness, while I’m a closeted one. She is amazingly self-aware and unashamed of whom she is. She has every reason to be proud of herself, but in actuality she is quite modest. 

 

Sookie dazzled me. Daily, constantly, pretty much every time she opened her mouth or did something. It was embarrassing really. I was not a horny teenager and it was not a first crush. It felt more like I had finally found my match. Sometimes just being around her overwhelmed me.

 

She got me, really got me. She saw things about me that nobody else had looked for or bothered to notice. She didn’t mind my darkness, nor my need for privacy on some issues. I didn’t intimidate her in the least; I’m pretty positive that no one could actually intimidate her. She saw deeply into my psyche and seemed to like what she had found. She had accepted me completely into both her professional and personal life. 

 

I was awed by her courage in all areas of her life and her incredible generosity. 

 

She offered me a job, a place to belong, was willing to teach me all that she knew and had given me her unwavering loyalty and friendship in a very short amount of time. She had given me the most precious gift: her trust. I didn’t think I deserved all of that, but I was willing to accept it, eager even and it was only fair that I offered her the same things back. She was the most generous person I knew.

 

The first time I ever saw her, my heart not only skipped a beat, but I was sure it had stopped beating altogether as if frozen by her sheer presence. It had been almost like time had stood still. When I told her that very day that she was breath-takingly beautiful I had been completely truthful. Her looks had literally taken my breath away. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Still is, and it’s not just due to her looks, but because her beauty resonates from both inside and out; her inner beauty only amplifies her outer one. 

 

She has a commanding presence and an attitude that is impressive and sexy. She is fearless and the complete opposite of helpless. I respect and admire her immensely. I don’t usually respect and admire many people. 

 

The truth is that Sookie is like the sun. She shines, almost blinding those who stare at her light for too long. She brightens everywhere she goes and all those around her. Her light is so powerful, it chases away shadows. Maybe that was why she has become my beacon. I have too much darkness inside me and it all pretty much disappears anytime she is around and it seems sometimes it just dissipates as I think of her. 

 

Not only has she brightened my dark corners by chasing the shadows away, she made me light up from within. Her light has been erasing my darkness little by little and letting the light in and I can see this light reflecting back out of me. 

 

For a woman who is so incredibly insightful and intelligent, she doesn’t realize two very important things. My escalating feelings for her and her own self-worth. She is priceless. I’d burn the world to ashes for her, not that she’d ever ask that of me or even approve of me doing it. She is a VERY independent and strong woman; if the world ever needed burning she’d do it herself. She didn’t need me; she didn’t need any man or woman, which only increased her appeal. She could stand on her own two feet. I believed my presence was welcomed, but never required. 

 

She had known loss, but that didn’t diminish her positive outlook on the world or her hope in what was good, right and fair. 

 

She was rational, practical and logical. She was trust-worthy. She was magical. 

 

I had never had a woman have such an impact on me and for so many different and deserving reasons. 

 

I feel like quoting something very cheesy, that I knew Sookie would get a kick out of, if only she could have heard it come out of my mouth because I couldn’t truly believe it was going through my own head. She made me want to be a better man. 

 

No. 

 

She made me a better man. I wanted to be worthy of her. She was worth fighting for; she was not the type of woman who would give herself easily. She had to be earned. 

 

It was also not the way I wanted her and how I wanted to get her to be mine because I wanted all of her. I wanted her to give herself to me freely and completely, just like I was willing to do with her. It had to be an even situation. We had to meet as equals and become partners professionally, but most importantly personally. I didn’t want just a taste or even just a piece of her. That would never satisfy me. Likewise, I didn’t want to hide anything from her about my feelings either. I wanted to give all of myself to her. I wanted her to be mine. I wanted to be hers. This was a first for me and it was all from the transformative effect she had on me. 

 

I had no idea how she felt about me. Don’t get me wrong, I knew she found me attractive. I was used to it. However, I didn’t want only her attraction, I wanted her heart. And try as I might to read her, I was always afraid I was projecting what I wanted to see in her eyes. I had also felt apprehension from her towards me; not of me physically as if I was dangerous. It seemed to be more that it was fear of the rare and valuable connection we have made so fast between us and the direction it might be leading us to… Or maybe I was delusional and reading into what my own wishes were. 

 

Maybe she didn’t want to rock the boat, while I was dying to rock it so much that nobody came knocking. I wanted to crawl inside her brain just as much as I wanted to fuck her against the wall.

 

I wasn’t as honest a person as Sookie, but I never lied to her. I might not tell her the whole truth, but what I told her was always true.

 

The big question was: Was she ready to hear the entire truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: patty.fullwood contributed with the line (that I rephrased it a bit): “I want to crawl inside her brain just as I’m banging her up against the wall.”
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: So? What did you think? For the love of the Viking let me know your thoughts, even if you hated it. And do you think Sookie is ready to hear the truth? I wonder… ;)


	8. Sookie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was beta’d by the incredible kleannhouse. She has my deepest gratitude, as always. Any remaining errors are all mine, I assure you.

“I enjoy writing about people falling in love, probably because I think the first time you fall in love is the first time that you have to figure out how you're going to orient your life. What are you going to value? What's going to be most important to you? And I think that's really interesting to write about.”  
\- John Green

 

“Falling in love is like handing someone a gun pointed at your heart and hoping that they never pull the trigger.”  
\- By Unknown

 

“To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god.”  
\- By George Luis Borges

 

“It was love at first sight, at ever and ever sight.”  
– By Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

 

“I fall in love with souls, not faces.”  
\- By Cheryl Fernandez-Versini

 

“I wasn’t looking for anything when I found you and it somehow made me question what I wanted, was I ready for love? I don't think anyone is ever ready, but when someone makes you feel alive again it's kind of worth the risk...”  
– By Nikki Rowe

 

“You should only fall in love with a person who enjoys your madness. Not an idiot who forces you to be normal.”  
– By Elin Peer, Black

 

“No one ever fell in love without being a little brave.”  
\- By Mario Tomasello

 

“Are you afraid to fall in love? No, I’m afraid of being the only one who falls.”  
\- By Unknown

 

“It's worth pointing out that no one faults a male protagonist for falling in love. What is it about a boy needing a girl that seems to round out his character, while a girl needing a boy can be dismissed as pathetic?”  
\- Lauren Kate

 

&&&&&&&&&&&&**************************&&&&&&&&&&&&

After I left Eric, I strolled home. I lived five blocks from my office, so I walked there and back most days. I only took my car when I knew we were going to need it. It was also easy to just walk to my place to get it, if the need arose. 

I had all this restless energy going through me. I was not usually an anxious person, so I was having a hard time figuring out why I was feeling this way and how to set myself back to rights. I considered going to the dojo and finding someone to practice with. However, I didn’t think I was fit for company. My head was not in the right place and I could get myself or someone else hurt. So, I decided on the next best thing. I was going to run my ass off on my treadmill. 

I lived in the house I had grown up in. I had been raised there by my grandmother and mother. After they both passed away I just couldn’t even imagine selling the place. It had too much sentimental value and it was a huge part of my history and my family before me. I just couldn’t bear to have another family living there. So, I had moved back in even though the two story house was bigger than what I needed and I haven’t changed it much. I did however move into the master bedroom and I redecorated it to my own tastes. I have also updated the TV room and not much else. The house was still mostly decorated in the fashion of my mother and gran. I liked having their stuff and their taste around me. I knew one day I’d want to change it and make it all my own, but that day hadn’t yet come. 

My mother had been very supportive of my dancing. I think she had a hidden desire to be a ballerina, but since she couldn’t dance she had put all her love of dancing into my pursuit of it. She had made me a dance room. I called it the gym. It was a room with mirrors on all the walls and dance bars attached to them. I have considered putting some type of padding on the floor to make it a dojo. I haven't done that yet, but I have added a treadmill to the room so that I could run whenever I wanted. Running wasn’t my favorite activity, but it was a necessity to keep in shape and it was great cardiovascular work which also relieved my stress. 

When I got home, I went directly to my bedroom and changed into some workout clothes. I proceeded to the gym, plugged my iPhone into the sound system and clicked on my running playlist. 

I got onto the treadmill and started at a slow pace. Shortly thereafter, I upped the speed and was running full out as I did have a lot of nervous energy to work out of my system.

I’ve always considered myself a very rational person, so I made an executive decision to use the time wisely and think things through. 

I knew that there was more than one reason I was worried about tonight, I just needed to figure out the reasons and change my attitude accordingly. 

I had told Eric, and I was being honest, that I was afraid about interacting with the swingers at the club. I certainly didn’t want to be pawed, grabbed or touched in any way. I knew I could defend myself if need be, but that would blow our cover. However, I deduced it wasn’t such a logical fear. I didn’t know much about the swinging lifestyle, and I didn’t think what happened in those clubs was non-consensual. I just didn’t know how aggressive the patrons would be towards new blood, but I didn’t think it would be that hazardous to my modesty, now that I thought about it.

I had no problems with the swinger’s lifestyle and their sexual preferences. My philosophy had always been that what happens between consenting adults was always acceptable. I wasn’t a prude by any means. I enjoyed good sex very much. I was a bit modest and hadn’t had much experience with men and/or sex. I was no virgin; however I had a small number of lovers for a 33 year-old woman. I didn’t do casual sex nor one night stands. I was usually already emotionally attached when I had sex with someone. I also needed to confess to myself that I was a little sexually frustrated and romantically deprived. The last time I had sex had to have been over two years ago. I have had a couple of dates in the last few years, but they never went past the first one. I had toys that sometimes did a much better job than the real men I had been with and I was woman enough to admit that I had used them when needed. ‘Needs must’, and all that. 

The truth was that romance and men have never been a priority in my life. My career had always been number one; I was a workaholic, no doubt about it. Marriage and kids held no interest for me either, so my love life had always been pushed to the bottom of my needs and wants. 

However, one of the main reasons men were such a low priority for me was that I didn’t know how to deal with them; although I think the opposite was actually truer. 

Men didn’t know what to make of me. My exterior didn’t match my interior. Or better said, my looks didn’t go well with my personality. Men usually had three different responses towards me. The first, and sadly the most common, were at first sight when they immediately thought I was one of the following: dumb bimbo, ditzy blonde, trophy wife material or just plain arm candy. They saw the blonde hair, blue eyes and my boobs and they jumped to conclusions. But, when I opened my mouth and talked to them, I confused the hell out of them. My strong personality didn’t match the label or box they had put me in. The second response I was given was through the look in some of the eyes of the bravest ones: ‘She might be a fun challenge’. Not what a woman wants to be. I didn’t care to be anyone’s challenge. They didn’t want me, they wanted to have some fun and maybe prove they could break me into the docile blonde bimbo they craved and thought I was deep down to my core. As if. Lastly, I intimidated a lot of them. I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I talked about, my alpha attitude or some aura about me that said that I could be dangerous. Which wasn’t far off the mark, I could be perilous if the situation called for it, especially if it was in self-defense, but I wasn’t a psycho. Or maybe, I just had had bad luck meeting the right type of man. 

Why was the thought of going to a swinger’s club to do a job bothering me so much?

Eric had promised, vowed actually, to make sure no one put their hands on me. I believed him and I trusted him. He would play the part in our ruse and protect me while doing it. Not that I would need his protection, but it was welcomed and it was the least likely scenario that we’d be discovered. He would be able to act possessive or jealous, like they would need his approval to approach me. He could play cocky like no one else. This should work. 

Then I had a light bulb over my head moment. ‘The Ruse’. That was the main and strongest source of my discomfort. Tonight I’d be playing the part of Eric’s lover, to use his word. We would need to play it convincingly to pull it off. I felt my stomach clench. That was weird. Why was the thought of acting romantically with Eric bringing me such anxiety?

I didn’t want to confront that thought, romance with Eric, not now. I have tried to hide it, compartmentalize it and I have been able to put it out of my mind most of the time. I have been visiting Egypt lately, deep in denial. That wouldn’t do. I was a strong woman, I wasn’t a coward and if we were to successfully pull this night off tonight, I needed to come to terms with it. 

I liked Eric. I liked Eric very much. He had been in my life for only about three months now and had become an integral part of it. He was my employee and my friend. We spent most of our waking hours together at the office or out working our cases. We got along exceedingly well. I admired and respected him. And I truly enjoyed his company.

If I was being completely truthful, I was extremely attracted to him. I have been since the day we met, but knowing him like I knew him now, it had just made him even more appealing to me. His personality only enhanced his looks. He was gorgeous inside and out, especially to me. Sure, Eric was a universally handsome man, even if he weren’t your precise type. Unfortunately, he was exactly my type. I liked tall and big men. I liked manly men and alpha types. I also liked long hair on a guy, although not many could pull it off, but Eric did it amazingly well. 

I doubted that any straight, bisexual woman, or gay man when confronted with Eric wouldn’t want him. He had this magnetic and incredible sex appeal. He was pretty much sex on a stick. The same way people looked at Angelina Jolie and thought of sex, people saw Eric and sex came to the forefront of their minds. He was too good looking and striking. He was too much to take in and not be affected. 

However, his looks were only a small part of my growing attraction towards him; after all I was not ruled by my hormones. I loved his sense of humor, our banter, our working dynamic and our friendship. He was a great guy and he had become one of my favorite people in the world. He was always honest with me. Oh, I knew he was a very private guy and didn’t tell me everything. But, I had quickly realized that the only topic that had been off-limits since our first meeting was his military past. He had made it clear that day that it was not only private, but classified. I couldn’t deny I was curious, but it was his story to tell when or if he ever wanted to. He knew he could talk to me about anything, so I didn’t pry. We did talk a lot about other things. Pretty much anything under the sun. I had never had such a great relationship with a guy and it wasn’t even romantic. 

I laughed more with him than I had ever done with anyone else. Eric got me. I knew he really did. We were similar in a lot of ways. I also knew that he liked me exactly as I was, probably not romantically, but still it was an important point. It was the most seductive of all his many qualities. It’s hard to find someone, especially a man, that didn’t seem to want to change anything about you. As Colin Firth had so enchantingly said in Bridget Jones’ Diary: “I like you very much. Just as you are.”. I always thought that was the most romantic thing I had ever heard and wondered if one day I’d find someone that felt that way about me. 

I was beginning to finally realize what my true problem was. I wanted Eric. Romantically. He was everything I had ever wanted in a man. And I didn’t even know that was exactly what I wanted before I had met him and had spent time with him. I was falling for him and that scared the living shit out of me. 

I was worried...I didn’t want to lose him. Not from my professional life, nor from my personal one. If he knew how I felt, if I actually acknowledged it to myself or even worse to him, life would change. I would lose a very competent employee which was something I had wanted for so long for my business. He was perfect for the job. I also would lose his friendship. If he realized I liked him, he would feel uncomfortable, sexually harassed, he could quit or we would drift apart. Or maybe he wouldn’t and we could have an epic night of steamy sex. He had said from the first day that he found me beautiful. It wouldn’t be hard to get him into my bed, I thought. But, that wouldn’t be enough for me. I was already emotionally invested and I had no interest in only having a hot one night stand with him. 

It would also change our current dynamic. There were no easy answers. The key problem was that I was his boss. If I showed him any interest it would be text book sexual harassment. I don’t think any court would convict me (a picture of Eric would most certainly save me), but it was still wrong on so many levels. It was unethical. I couldn’t and wouldn’t put him in that position. He didn’t deserve it. He had been so good to me and he was excellent at his job. What I felt for him wasn’t his fault; he had never led me on. He shouldn’t pay the price for my mistake. 

Sometimes I didn’t know what to think. I had noticed some of the looks Eric gave me when he thought I wasn’t looking and even when I was talking directly to him. I thought I had seen some longing and affection in his eyes, but I might just be delusional or projecting what I was now certain had been in my own eyes when I furtively looked at him. He could also just want to have a roll in the hay with me. That was a possibility. He was a man after all. 

We had never talked about his status. I didn’t even know if he had a girlfriend. I was almost sure he didn’t. He never mentioned anything of that kind of nature and the way we sometimes playfully flirted gave me the impression he was definitely single. However, he was a private person and for all I knew he could have a serious girlfriend he kept secret or he could be banging a different woman every night. I didn’t think that was the case, but I wasn’t sure. Eric didn’t seem the type, but did I know him as well as I thought I did? Did I choose to see only what suited me? I didn’t know anymore and that concerned me.

Another issue, if I could ever forget I was his boss, was that if something was to happen between us, he needed to initiate it. I was a little old-fashioned. I liked to be courted, to feel special, chosen and not just a warm body that was available and willing. That also presented some problems, even if Eric wanted me, which was a BIG IF, maybe he wouldn’t feel comfortable hitting on his boss. I knew he took our work as seriously as I did. He had been happy and grateful for it. He had finally found his calling; would he risk it for me? I didn’t think I had given him any signs that I was interested, besides a few appreciating looks when he was just being his very sexy self at which times I just wanted to jump his bones, business be damned.

Would Eric try anything? Would he, if interested, show it? 

I didn’t know. If I was him, I wouldn’t risk it. Especially if it was just an attraction or an infatuation. It was not worth rocking the boat. We had a good deal going between us, changing our situation would probably ruin everything. I didn’t want to lose him. Maybe I should just let sleeping dogs lie. That would be best. But, I couldn’t deny my feelings for him anymore. I prided myself on being self-aware. I just had to acknowledged them and ignore them. That would be best. Just tuck them away for another day.

The problem was how to handle tonight. Our ruse was too close to the reality of my feelings. I was going to be professional and try my best to not let my realization risk the job. I briefly considered that it would also be nice to play his girlfriend. We would have to act with some intimacy which we have never done before. We’d need to hold hands, stay close to each other, hug and whatever else we would need to do to successfully get our proof for Constance. 

That momentary thought suddenly made me sad. That was quite pathetic of me. I really didn’t want my first time being intimately close to Eric to be because we were acting and it was subterfuge. I wanted him to touch me because he wanted to. I wanted to touch him because I’ve been dying to do it for ages. I wanted it to be real and reciprocal, not a ruse. 

Well, if wishes were horses…

The truth was that tonight was going to happen. I had made my decision and I would never chicken out of it because I realized I was falling hard for Eric. I’d play my part, act my ass off and get the job done. I’d shove all my feelings in the back of my mind and behave like a professional. I was an adult and not a silly girl with an uncontrollable crush. I had self-respect and a lot of self-control. I’d would need both tonight. 

I’d also needed to be careful. I couldn’t let Eric in on my growing attraction to him and I certainly didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. I could not get lost in the act and forget the truth that Eric wasn’t mine and probably never would be, at least not the way I wanted him. Eric was probably THE MAN for me. THE ONE. I was sure about that. I had never felt such a connection with anyone else. It scared me, for many reasons. Mostly, because I didn’t like being vulnerable, but when it came to him I was utterly adrift. 

My heart was on the line. 

Could I live with myself if I never risked going for it to find out if we were right for each other? And could I live with myself if things blew up in my face and I lost Eric forever?

Would I let fear rule me?

I was not ready for the answers to those questions. Plus, this was not the time to focus on my heart. I needed my mind clear and to get in the game. No man, not even Eric in all his panty dropping glory, was going to change my determination to do a great job for my client. 

But really, I had to confess to myself that I was dying to see him in the clothes I had suggested he wear tonight. It was sure to be a major trial for my self-control. Wickedly, I thought: ‘I can hardly wait to test it…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So…? How about that? Did you guys have any idea about Sookie’s feelings? And how about Eric’s POV and now hers, aren’t they so much alike? What will happen? Did you guys enjoy it? How do you feel about Sookie’s thoughts?
> 
> Please, leave a comment. Please, I do write faster when I get reviews. They are like crack to me, I always want a next fix. ;)


	9. Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As usual the incredible kleannhouse beta’d this chapter for me. I can’t thank her enough. Any remaining errors are all mine.

CHAPTER 9 – PRELUDE

 

“However, technically you’re still available, since you have yet to commit.”  
I made an effort to enunciate my reply very carefully. “Available?”  
“Up for grabs. On the market. Ready for action. Putting out the vibe.”  
He was just jerking my chain now. Two could play that game. “Fine, I don’t care, give me an escort, send me in a car or a cart or whatever. Just don’t send your girlfriend as a chauffeur.”  
A stunned silence issued. Jim’s eyebrows came together. Judging by his expression, if Jim had been in cat form, every hair on his back would’ve stood up. “My girlfriend?”  
Jennifer kept a perfectly straight face.  
In for a penny, in for a pound. “You know, short, glasses, Indonesian, drives like a demon from the lowest bowels of hell?”  
“She isn’t my girlfriend.”  
“Oh, so she’s still up for grabs? Fair game?”  
“Putting out the vibe?” Jennifer added.  
Jim turned and walked away without a word.”  
\- By Ilona Andrews, Kate Daniels Series

 

“People will sometimes find themselves attracted to others, that's just who they are. It's what they do with that attraction that defines them.”  
– By Donna Lynn Hope

 

“The law of attraction is this: You don’t attract what you want. You attract what you are.”  
– By Wayne Dyer

 

“Desire is easy to fight. Especially when the only weapon desire possesses is attraction. It's not so easy when you're trying to win a war against the heart.”  
– By Colleen Hoover

 

“I think I'm speaking for everyone when I say, if all you're going to do is switch back to brood mode, we'd rather have you evil. Then, at least, leather pants.”  
\- By Joss Whedon, Angel

 

“But the second she opened her eyes and looked at me, I knew. She was either going to be the death of me or she was going to be the one who finally brought me back to life.”  
\- By Colleen Hoover

 

“His attention felt more like an irrepressible gravitational pull than mere interest.”  
– By Blakely Bennett

 

“The problem with human attraction is not knowing if it will be returned.”  
– By Becca Fitzpatrick

 

****************

I ran for over an hour. I had to stop because I didn’t want be the exhausted for tonight. I needed to be alert and ready for anything. 

The realization that I was in love with Eric hadn’t been easy for me to swallow. I hadn’t planned it, I guess nobody plans to fall in love, it just happens. To be honest, my life would be a lot easier if that weren’t true. However, I had been rational about it, I had admitted it to myself and that had given me a new sense of peace. My anxiety was mostly gone and I would have to wait to contemplate more about Eric. We had a job to do soon enough and I was determined to be successful at it. Nothing would distract me, or so I thought.

I had taken a long and hot shower which had also helped me relax. I had come out, put on lotion, my robe and was now reviewing the items that were strewn on my bed. I had my gun, my iPhone, my driver’s license, some cash, my house keys and a small hair brush with a ponytail holder that I usually carried everywhere. I had also added a gaudy looking long necklace with a big locket on it with a small transparent crystal imbedded on the front. It was hideous, but that was my secret weapon. It was actually a hidden camera. The camera was hidden inside the locket and if you pressed a button on its side the camera would record high resolution video for about half an hour and also take still shots every 5 seconds while it was on. I didn’t want to put the neckless on until I was ready; it would look tacky as hell. So I’d put it on when we arrived at the club. I didn’t plan on taking all that was currently on my bed inside the club. I’d put all of it into my clutch and leave it in Eric’s car, with the exception of the camera and my fake ID. 

Eric had a fancy black (of course), Land Rover Sentinel with the windows tinted and it was also completely armored. It was a ridiculous SUV really. It was like a tank dressed as a tuxedo. Very nice, but totally overkill. It was more suited to war zones and high target figures, like heads of state. But who was I to judge.

I had asked him the first time I was in his truck if he was just that paranoid or if he was compensating for something. I also told him jokingly that he should have just gotten a big ass Hummer. He told me that he had bought it when he had moved back to town at a very reasonable price from a friend of his that was moving overseas. He had stated that his buddy was the paranoid one and since he had two small children he didn’t like taking any chances with the safety of his family. Eric didn’t say it, but I had understood that his friend most likely had PTSD and a classified job. I didn’t ask any more questions after that.

I had, however, told him that his vehicle was not a good choice for undercover work. The type of jobs we did where we followed people, had stake outs and needed to not be noticed. His car got a lot more attention than mine, although you couldn’t tell it was armored just from looking at it, unless you knew what a Sentinel was, which I hadn’t. I was pretty ignorant when it came to cars; I had no interest in them besides them being useful apparatuses. Opening the very heavy door for the first time was the way I had found out. The tinted windows could be advantageous sometimes in our line of work, but my car was more ideally suited for it. I had a 3 year-old Toyota Camry. A very popular car that didn’t call attention to itself, unlike Eric’s showy one.

I would need to ask him to carry my ID for me in his wallet, in case we were carded, which I very much doubted would happen. It might have been silly to plan to bring my gun along since I certainly wasn’t going to take it into the club with us and I had no plans to use it or any feeling that I might even need it. I would leave my bag with the gun and the rest of my personal belongings inside his SUV. Eric would be with me. He was more dangerous than any weapon I could bring. 

I had once asked Eric why he didn’t carry a gun. He was an ex-soldier, it seemed to me that not only must he have been good with guns but that he had had a close personal relationship with them. They were instruments of war and he was a warrior. One way or another.

To my surprise, Eric had told me that he wasn’t that fond of guns. They were just tools to be used only when needed. He said he was very good with them and had no problem using them if it was required, but he didn’t see the necessity to carry one. I could understand that. Eric’s size and imposing figure were great deterrents. Plus, he could radiate menace like no one else I knew, when he wanted to. I had seen it. Unfortunately, my looks didn’t provide me with the same protection. I just didn’t look that scary or intimidating. 

However, he had said something that if I hadn’t known him and trusted him; it would have chilled me to the bone. He had said: “I don’t need a gun…”. Then he had hesitated and paused. But I knew what the rest of his sentence was: “…to kill someone.”. He was not content with that response, so he added: “They also make noise. There’re better, faster and more silent ways to get the job done.”. Damn, if that hadn’t been unsettling. True, but nonetheless somewhat creepy. I couldn’t fault his logic though. So, I had never again brought up the subject of him and guns. 

Nevertheless, my Glock was like my security blanket. I always had it on me, with the exception of when I went to the dojo and when I was home. I did leave it by my bedside table and I also had other guns stashed around almost in every room of my house for protection. I had called Eric paranoid, but I was starting to figure out that I was the one who truly was. I hadn’t had Eric’s training, nor his experience. If a weapon was needed to defend myself, which had been proven fact by an “incident” that had happened shortly after Eric had started working for me then I would protect myself by any means necessary. After that, I had been even more attached to my G17.

With that decided, I applied some volumizing mousse and proceeded to blow dry my hair with a diffuser, to give it more volume with some waves to get a sexier look. Then, I did my make-up. I applied a lot more than I was used to. I did a fairly decent black and gray smokey eye and put on some matte reddish lipstick. It was a bit too much. One of the rules I followed with make-up was that if you accented your eyes, you did a neutral lip and vice-versa. That was also a good rule for clothes. If you were wearing something low cut, it shouldn’t also be short. If it was short, you made sure there was no cleavage showing. It was a matter of balance, of looking sexy and not vulgar. I would be breaking both rules tonight. It was a requirement to get this job done. I would be playing the ditzy blonde and vulgar would go a long way to sell it and help with my acting. I considered it a costume. A suit of armor, really. 

I had left my dress, shoes, and my small diamond stud earrings for last. But now with my hair and make-up done, and my purse ready, I just needed to put on the rest of my outfit. I had never used the dress before. I had gotten it years earlier when out shopping with Amelia. She was in a phase at the time where her major concern about me had been my love life. So, she convinced me to get the damn dress to use it at a club or while out on a date. The problem was I always hated clubs and never went, plus I didn’t think they were the right place to find a guy for me; even if that was what I had wanted, which it wasn’t. Another issue was that the dress was way too sexy for a first date. It’d give the wrong impression, and my looks already worked against me in that department. If being thought of as a bimbo bothered me, wearing that outfit would not help my case. But, I had bought it, mostly to shut Amelia up, although I had to confess it was a pretty dress, even if it wasn’t exactly my style and way too sexy for me. 

The dress was white leather. It was buttery soft and beautifully cut. It hugged my figure in all the right places, or wrong ones, depending on the perspective. It was tight, especially this many years later, since I had gotten a little more muscular. I was lucky it still fit. The dress was rather simple in a way. It had thick straps, which would have been great if I could wear a bra with it, but I couldn’t. My back was almost completely bare. The back of the dress had a very deep V that started wide at my shoulder blades and grew smaller as it went down almost to my butt. The part covering said asset had a silver zipper right in the middle and all the way down. It was the only way I could get into it and also added another layer of sexiness. Men looked at that zipper and fantasized about opening it. The front was tamer, the shoulder straps would help, but there was also a much smaller, but equal V cut, between my breast. Not a very low one, more like a little tease. It was also a lot shorter than what I was comfortable with. It stopped mid-thigh. I had never shown so much skin before if I wasn’t on the beach or at the pool. 

Don’t get me wrong, the dress was not exactly vulgar. The material, the cut, the color, and the price tag made it sexy as hell, but it avoided the vulgarity most other similar outfits would have. It was the best I could do for tonight and I was pretty sure it was enough. I hadn’t even considered going out to buy a sluttier outfit. I had to draw the line somewhere. Plus, it was exciting to wear a dress that I had never had the balls to do before. And I couldn’t wait to see Eric’s reaction to it. He had never seen me showing so much skin; he was used to seeing me in my professional and very prim business suits, which barely showed anything. My suits were actually custom made to hide my shoulder holster and gun. No need to scare my clients or sources, plus it was always better if people didn’t know you were armed; the element of surprise always worked in my favor. 

I wasn’t going to deny that when I suggested Eric wear a black wife beater and black leather pants, it had come directly from my fantasies. Maybe I had watched too much Buffy, which I admit I did, and Angelus had gotten to me. And there was that other vampire show on HBO I was not a big fan of, but the main guy had worn that outfit once in a scene I had seen and it was branded in my memory. To me it signified an extremely sexy and powerful look. Plus, Eric liked black. He liked black a lot. I could only guess why. 

I had taken some courses in image consulting, and they had been very useful. It had nothing to do with fashion, but what your clothes said about you, what first impressions people would get from your style, and what psychological effects colors had on other people. Most people don’t know that what we ‘say’ only represents 7% of how we are perceived. Our body language, 38%; and our looks up to 55%. Dressing appropriately gets you noticed and listened to. If you're perceived negatively, you won't be heard. That had been a revelation and valuable knowledge to have. 

For starters, black was the absence of light. Black absorbs all light in the color spectrum. Black is often used as a symbol of menace or evil, but it's also popular as an indicator of power. Black reflects authority and dominance, which is why I had so many black suits and that it was the color of the uniforms most government agents usually wore. Black clothes can attract those who like to be with an authoritative person, by wearing black often in the presence of those people, they may start to admire you. Black can also indicate that you are independent. Some people wear black in order to give others the impression that they are strong and capable. Men who wanted to stick to masculine values and show that they are manly enough might try to avoid bright colors and go for dark colors such as black. Black can also make a person seem more mysterious. Black was also associated with death and mourning in many cultures. It's also connected with unhappiness, sexuality, formality, and sophistication. It really was kind of the perfect color for Eric.

White reflects innocence and purity. It's the color used for wedding dresses to give the impression of virtue. In our minds white is usually associated with good while black is usually associated with evil. However dark isn't always a bad thing. The reason many women love dark clothes on men is that they want to be with men who seem dangerous and strong. I completely understood that. I was one of them, after all. 

Blue, on the other hand gave the impression of trustworthiness and loyalty. It was a great color to wear to job interviews and business deals. But, I digress. 

So, with him in black leather and me in white, we would make a striking sight. Especially with both of us being blonds with the same shade of hair color, blue eyes and a difference of height. When I told him his outfit would complement my own, I hadn’t been lying. 

I think I did have some sort of leather fetish now that I thought about it, although it was mostly focused on my fantasies with Eric wearing it. I was feeling a great anticipation to see him. And I didn’t have long to wait. He would be arriving in roughly 15 minutes to pick me up. 

I put on my dress, my earrings and my nude peep-toe high heeled Louboutin’s. The nude color and the huge height of the heels would make my legs looks miles long. I went to stand in front of my full body mirror and critically analyzed my outfit. 

I couldn’t dispute that I looked good. A lot more sensual than I usually did for sure, but the whole thing was working for me. I wasn’t ashamed of my body, yes I was modest, but I had worked out very hard to have the body I did and I was proud of it. It wasn’t just genetics, although that certainly played a chief part in it, but it was also the result of much tougher line of work and dedication. The dress suited me, especially if I planned on seducing someone or just attracting attention. I looked hot and sexy as hell. Not words I was use to describing myself. It was a lot more suggestive and racy than my usual attire. The hair, make-up and shoes completed the look perfectly. I looked ready to go out to a swinger’s club or even a regular night club. The outfit certainly gave the right vibes of a woman on the prowl. Available. Up for grabs. On the market. Ready for action. I was putting out the vibe. I hardly recognized myself. This was sexy kitten Sookie and not badass PI Sookie. Well, it was a ruse and I looked the part. Plus, I was as ready as I was ever going to be. 

I was also getting excited. I always did when working a job, especially one as intricate as this one. I lived for my work. I did get off on it. I enjoyed the adrenaline and the unpredictable nature of it. I craved it. 

I was still admiring myself in the mirror when I heard the doorbell ring. I looked at the clock on my night table and saw that it was 7:15 pm on the dot. Eric was always very punctual. It had to be him, I wasn’t expecting anyone else. He could have just texted me saying he was outside and I would have gone out to meet him at his car. This wasn’t a date, but Eric was a gentleman and maybe, just maybe, he also wanted to get a good full look at me in my current outfit before we left for the club. 

My excitement grew and I felt butterflies in my stomach. I wanted to think they were because I was excited about the job, but if I was being completely honest with myself, it had to do with my wish to see Eric in his outfit and his reaction to mine. That wasn’t the best way to start a professional night out, but I was human and I was allowed my feelings. I just had to be careful not show them to him. 

I took one last look in the mirror, fluffed my hair, grabbed my clutch and descended the stairs. I padded carefully to the door and looked into the peephole. I knew it had to be Eric, but it never hurt to be sure. 

It was indeed him and what I had seen briefly through the peephole had me almost flinging the door opened in my haste to get a good look at him. I barely managed to control myself, however I succeeded in getting the door opened in a mostly casual fashion. What waited for me on the other side gave me heart palpitations and I was sure my body temperature had risen considerably. 

WOW. 

Eric looked mouth-watering and so gorgeous, I almost stopped breathing.

I had no other way to describe how hot, sexy and delicious he looked. The wife beater and the leather pants looked like they had been painted on him. Like a second skin. I realized I had never seen Eric show that much of his skin or body before. Sure, he usually wore t-shirts and jeans that were a little tighter than strictly necessary. But, the pants and the top he had on now left very little to the imagination. Just the sight of his exposed shoulders and bare arms were unbelievably sensual. And, shamefully, I had to confess I noticed the bulge in the front of his pants. It was impressive, especially since it looked like it was at rest, to put it politely. 

He looked like the sexiest man in the universe. Like a wet dream come true, my very own wet dream. I actually had had some dreams that featured this very same look. He was indeed sex on a stick. I was almost drooling at the marvel that was Eric. If I had less self-control or was less professional, I would have jumped into his arms and asked him to ravage me on the spot, the job be damned.

My eyes roamed his body hungrily, taking in the resplendent view. I was actually speechless, which was not my usual response to anything.

Eric was speechless too. Dazed. He looked like he had been hit on the head by a mallet. His eyes also couldn’t stop roaming all over my body and face. At least he was polite about it; his eyes passed over but never fixated on my breasts. He looked like he was scanning me to memorize everything he was seeing. Like he was taking a mental picture because he planned on painting my likeness in the future and wanted to be very accurate about it. 

I took that as the compliment it was, and my reaction to him was very similar. I put a lid on my desire to grab my phone and snap a picture of him. For further examination; and to put it crudely, for my spank bank. But I did plan to never forget what I was seeing.

After a couple of minutes of us pretty much ogling each other a little awkwardly, Eric finally broke the silence. 

“Sookie, you look…” He hesitated like he couldn’t find the right word to describe what he wanted to say or he was just being careful. He continued.

“…like a vision. I… Well, you look like an angel…You’re just missing some white feathery wings coming out of your back. You…” He stopped suddenly. 

I had never seen Eric tongue tied before. He was a very eloquent man. It was deeply satisfying to my ego, not to mention to my newfound feelings for him, which I had been trying very hard to forget for tonight. But when he looked like this, all I wanted to do was fuck him and lick him and rub myself all over him.

I managed to rein in those impulses and smiled at him. 

“A very naughty angel, I’d think. I don’t see anything angelic about the way I look.”

“I do.” He said with conviction and a very intense look. He went on.

“If you don’t like the comparison to the catholic angels, I’d say you look like a goddess, Aphrodite or Venus, depending on your preferred Pantheon.” 

Oh.

That was a hell of a compliment. Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of sexuality, infatuation, beauty and love. Venus was her Roman equivalent. 

My heart started beating so fast after hearing that that I had the irrational fear that Eric would hear it too. 

So, because I’m me and can’t keep my mouth shut I had to give him a worthy reply.

“Well, and you look like a fallen angel. Lucifer, the morning star.”

“Are you comparing me to Satan?” Eric asked.

When he put it like that… 

I could salvage this but it would cost me some pride and uneasiness about what he would think of what I was going to say next. But, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Not the Devil, Eric. Lucifer before he fell. He was considered the most beautiful angel in Heaven. Here are some passages from Ezequiel I remember from my catholic upbringing: “You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty.”. That was God speaking about him. He later says: “Your heart grew proud of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor; so I cast you to the earth; I made you a spectacle before kings.”. So, yeah, you could be a just fallen Lucifer, especially in this outfit. I guess the only thing missing to complete my analogy are massive black wings coming out of your back. Or, if you prefer I could say you look like the god Eros.”

Eros was the Greek god of sensual love and desire.

Eric froze and I felt his penetrating stare. I almost lowered my eyes, it was too intense. So, to change the mood I gave him a very self-satisfied smile. Like I was saying: There! Take that.

“You’re always surprising, Sookie. I never can predict what will come out of your mouth or how you’ll respond to something I’ve said. Although, you usually joke and quote something.”

He smiled widely. 

He did have a point and he really knew me well. I sometimes used humor and quotes as a defense mechanism, though it was mostly just a crucial part of my personality.

Well, I needed to change the subject fast and we had to get going, but I just couldn’t resist commenting again on his looks. I wanted to make a joke to change the vibe, as he had so wisely noticed is one of my modus operandi. But, then I blurted out, without much thought:

“You look good enough to eat.” I had actually meant lick in my head, but I was glad my brain filter had at least worked on that part. Not satisfied, I continued unfiltered. 

“I’m resisting the urge to ask you to twirl around so I can get the full effect. From the front and back.”

Fuck! That had been a little too much, hadn’t it? I thought it had come out playfully, but I had meant every word. I couldn’t wait to check out his mouth-watering butt in those pants. Sometimes being a very talkative and honest person was to my detriment.

Eric raised an eyebrow and then smirked. He looked intently into my eyes and then very gallantly spread one of his arms out in the direction of the street, while moving his body sideways on the other side of my door, and said:

“Please, after you.”

Well played, Eric, well played. He had just told me in only three seemly polite words that he wanted to check out my butt too and had at the same time dared me to walk out first in front of him. 

Now, if he thought I was going to be demure, shy away or be embarrassed, he would be very disappointed. I never ran from a dare, especially one that was as plain in his eyes that were sparkling like stars at that moment. I was not ashamed of my body or my outfit. I was a confident woman, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to have an opportunity to see the whole thing tonight anyway and soon, so why should I postpone something that was inevitable and back out from his challenge? 

So, I replied sweetly and gave him my most modest and ladylike smile. 

“You’re too kind, thank you.”

As I proceeded to walk past the threshold and him, I walked out into the night without looking back and holding my head high; and admittedly moving my hips and body in the sexiest way possible without looking like I was trying too hard.

I could swear I had heard a sharp intake of breath from Eric when I had passed by him. I smiled to myself and put a little more pep in my step. 

I was starting to think tonight was going to be a lot more fun than any other job I had ever done. I could hardly wait to find out how this night would unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I post also on WordPress and fanfiction.net under this same name. And my twitter is also back up and being updated.


	10. The Game Is Afoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As usual my undying gratitude goes to kleannhouse for beta’ing this chapter. I really couldn’t do this without her. All remaining errors are all mine.

CHAPTER 10 – THE GAME IS AFOOT

 

“Before the game is afoot, thou still let'st slip.”  
\- By William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part 1

 

“The game's afoot:  
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge  
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!”  
\- By William Shakespeare, Henry V

 

“Come Watson, come! The game is afoot! Not a word! Into your clothes and come!”  
– By Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Abbey Grange

 

“Attraction is beyond our will or ideas sometimes.”  
– By Juliette Binoche

 

****************

I sauntered my way towards Eric’s car with him closely following behind me. I didn’t look back at him, though I very much wanted to. I wanted to look at him forever. I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I was trying to sneak a peek at his ass in those pants. I would see it soon enough. 

When I reached the passenger’s side door, I was about to lift my hand to open it when Eric’s long, bare and muscular arm shot out and opened it for me. He held it open and waited for me to get in. As I climbed into the seat I could feel the heat radiating off of Eric’s big left hand hovering very close to my naked lower back, like he wanted to chivalrously assist me. My skin broke out in goosebumps. He didn’t actually touch me, he was holding himself in check or so I thought; but I could feel it almost there and I really wanted him to put his hand on my exposed skin, which was all kinds of wrong.

I wanted to scream, mostly to remind myself: “THIS IS NOT A DATE!”.

I was starting to think I should have brought a huge blinking neon sign with those words in big red letters, so to never forget for a minute that very relevant fact. A new mantra, of sorts. 

No matter how much I wanted to be going on a date with Eric, we weren’t. It was a professional situation. I couldn’t let myself or Eric get carried away thinking this was anything more than a ruse to get a job done. We had to focus. I had to focus. 

I sat down; Eric closed my door and walked around the front of the massive SUV to reach the driver’s side. I was about to put my seatbelt on when something caught my attention. 

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

We had left the front door of my house wide open and the light from the entrance hall was spilling out. Luckily, I had noticed it before we drove off. I was utterly exasperated with myself and Eric for this blunder. Mostly, I was infuriated with myself. I had let Eric’s, well, Ericness, distract me to the point I had forgotten about a very important security risk; and it had overridden my own overdeveloped sense of paranoia. That was a testament of how much he had affected me and how incredibly hot and distracting he looked. That was risky. We had a job to do and if I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than Eric, we’d have a major problem. 

Eric got into his seat, closed his door, turned and looked at me. He was staring at me like he had never seen me before and was appreciating the new view, which was only true in the sense that he had never seen me in this type of getup before. He looked as distracted as I had just felt. So, I decided to spread my vexation around and hopefully bring us both back to reality.

“Eric!” I said in a very aggravated tone. 

That seemed to have worked, because he lost the admiring look in his eyes and they focused on me, curiously now. 

“Yeah?” 

“We left my front door wide open! You couldn’t have closed it once I walked out?”

I wasn’t being completely fair to him. It wasn’t all his fault. It was my house, I had the keys, and although the door locked automatically when closed, it was still my responsibility to secure my home. But, it was his fault in the sense that his little dare, his hotness and my wish to tease him had me strutting out without looking back. Though, he could have closed it. I guessed I, or my ass and naked back more specifically, had sidetracked him too. That was a gratifying thought; that I wasn’t the only one who had been so enamored and overwhelmed. 

Fine, it was my own damn fault. He wasn’t responsible for how much he had affected me. That had been one of the main reasons I had been so deep in denial about my feelings for him. I knew our dynamic would change. I knew it would disturb our work. It was dangerous. Too bad it had to be today that I finally realized I was in love with him. The timing had been atrocious; tonight was not the night to be looking at Eric as anything other than my partner in “crime”. 

Eric was silent. I had been too while I mentally bitched myself out for behaving like a love struck dummy. Finally, he said:

“Sorry. I was…” He paused and then went on. “..distracted. I’ll go back now and close it.”

“No, never mind. I will. It’s safest to lock it with my key anyway.”

He smiled wickedly. Son of a bitch, was he enjoying the thought of checking out my ass once more while I walked back to fix the issue? 

Men…

I opened my clutch and fished out my keys. I unlocked the car door, left my clutch on the seat and marched back to my front door swaying my hips for his benefit and locked it. I left the light on; it was always safest if it seemed if there was someone home. 

I sashayed back to the car and got into my seat and put my bag on my lap. I looked over at Eric. He was smiling in a very self-satisfied way. Well, I hoped he had enjoyed the view the second time around, as much as he seemed to have the first time. Although I felt he should have been more concerned about the work we had to do, instead of with my butt. I should take my own advice on that subject too. No more. I had a business to run and we had a job to do. That was more than enough, time to get in the game.

“Okay, now we can leave. Let’s go, Eric. Time’s ‘a wastin’.” I said in a no nonsense tone. 

Eric was a smart man, he realized my mood had changed and wordlessly started the truck and drove off. While he drove us on, I unzipped my clutch and took out my fake ID and the necklace with the hidden camera. I put both in my lap and turned to Eric. 

“Do you mind carrying my fake ID in your wallet, please?”

I had brought my fake ID because it was best to not leave many tracks, especially when I didn’t know how the job would turn out. It said my name was Suzannah Davis. It was a good choice, because Sookie sounded like a nickname for Suzannah and I thought it was much easier and even safer to use our own first names. Things can get complicated when you use a fake name. If you’re not used to it, you don’t respond to it when people use it to call you. It was also easy to let your real name, or the real name of the person you were with, slip out. 

Eric and I had talked about that on a previous occasion. His fake ID said his name was Eric Miller. We had both agreed that some jobs would require fake IDs with completely fake names, but this wasn’t the case here. First, our romantic ruse would be further complicated by using false names, we already had enough subterfuge to worry about, and we would mostly be using pet names anyway. 

If we did get the evidence on Mr. Gilmore that Constance needed tonight, she would be using it against him in their divorce; if he could place us then he would probably know it had been us who got the evidence needed by her. It also would not be difficult to find out which PI firm his wife had hired. This was a convert operation for now, but not really a secret undercover long con. I was mostly worried about the club discovering we were frauds and that we were there under false pretenses. It was a private sex club catering to a rich crowd, after all. Privacy would be their foremost concern. As long as we got our evidence and got out of there safely, I could care less about any other consequences. If any should arise from our deception then we would deal with them when or if they came up. 

The club would probably hush everything up, if they ever found out anything about us. That kind of place, who catered to these kind of needs and individuals, didn’t want any attention drawn to them. Ever. They’d probably tighten their security though, after the Gilmores’ divorce.

Eric briefly took his eyes off traffic and looked over at me.

“Aren’t you bringing your purse?”

“No. I’m leaving it in your car. I’ll put it in the glove compartment, okay?”

“Sure. I can take your ID and feel free to leave anything you want in my car. But, you’re bringing your phone, right?”

“No. But you are, aren’t you?”

“Of course. Why aren’t you bringing yours? Do you trust me to get all the evidence by myself?” 

He looked pleased with the idea that I trusted him with that responsibility. I didn’t want to disappoint him and I did trust him, but I always rather liked playing things safe. My hidden camera, plus his phone, would give us both a chance to get proof. It was a fail safe way to work. We would only get one opportunity to get this right and I wasn’t taking any chances. 

“Of course, I trust you. You know that, but I’m bringing a hidden camera too. I just want to have my hands free, in case, well; I’ll just feel better not having to carry anything.”

“A hidden camera? I haven’t seen you use one before. Where is it?” 

He looked me over with probing eyes, like he was scanning me for something hidden in my clothes or body. He gave me such a long and examining look, that I started to suspect he was just taking the opportunity to ogle me some more without being called out for it. It was satisfying; I wasn’t going to deny it. However, I wasn’t going to give his flattering my attention or encourage it now. We were supposed to be working. I had to remind myself yet again. Just repeat the mantra: ‘This is not a date!’. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t in high school for Christ’s sake. 

I had to laugh, so I did. 

“Here.” I lifted my hand and let the necklace dangle from it. 

“That monstrosity has a hidden camera?” He asked with a disgusted look on his face. 

I laughed again.

“Yes. It’s gaudy as hell, but don’t make fun of it. It’s very useful and one of my own creations. The camera is inside the locket. I can easily turn it on by just pressing a little button on the side and it’ll film and take still shots every 5 seconds in high resolution for about half an hour once it’s on before the battery dies out or it runs out of space. The tackiness of the necklace also works well when I’m playing the blonde bimbo, which I am tonight.”

Eric looked irritated. I didn’t get it. Was he that offended that I hadn’t trusted him to get all the evidence by himself? 

“I don’t like when you use that expression to describe yourself, even in jest.” He said very seriously. 

Who talked like that? In jest, really? I was amused.

“What? Blonde bimbo? Oh, come on, Eric. It’s an act, a necessary one for tonight and maybe a few more times in the future. Plus, it’s not like people don’t usually have that thought about me daily, inaccurate as that may be.”

“I don’t think they do, actually. There’s absolutely nothing about you that says bimbo to anyone. Not your behavior, not your looks. Nothing at all.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying. And I know you believe that. You know me. Plus, you’re an intelligent and observant man. But, let’s be honest, it’s what most men think about me at first sight. It’s one of the many reasons I dress so conservatively. Though, right now, in this outfit I wouldn’t blame anyone having the thought I really was a bimbo. My looks tend to give people the wrong first impression. Would your delicate sensibilities prefer if I called myself a ditzy blonde instead?” I asked a little sarcastically.

Eric rolled his eyes. 

“You’re as far from ditzy as anyone I’ve ever known, but suit yourself. Also, your current outfit doesn’t make you look like a bimbo. You’re too classy for that. You look very sexy and beautiful, that’s true, but there’s a big difference.”

Okay, I really did appreciate what he was saying. It was thoughtful and genuinely complimentary. Nonetheless, I was so not in the mood to discuss semantics or the topic of my looks and perception with Eric right now. I was excited about our assignment and the skullduggery we were about to be involved in. I did not want us getting sidetracked again from what really mattered tonight. Thankfully, he changed the subject back to what we had been discussing before that interlude.

“That necklace is hideous, I won’t lie to you. But, it’s ingenious. Well done. However, if you want another more discreet hidden camera, I can get whatever you need. I have my sources.”

I smiled, of course he did. It was good working with Eric. He was great at the job. I just had to keep remembering this when his looks and my feelings for him threatened to overwhelm me tonight. 

“I have no doubt. Thanks, we can discuss that tomorrow and see what we might need you to get for us. It’s a good idea. I can’t see you wearing this necklace anyway, even if it was urgently needed. You’d feel like Spike.” I jokingly said.

“Spike?” Eric asked sounding confused.

“Yeah, Spike. From Buffy and Angel. It’s silly and a long story. Basically, he had to wear a gaudy necklace, actually an amulet, to help save the world and ended up going up in flames literally, because of it. He did come back from the dead eventually and in the series finale a year later when they’re trying to save the world again he says: “Right. First off, I'm not wearing any amulets. No bracelets, brooches, beads, pendants, pins, or rings.”. I always thought that was hilarious. He’s one of the funniest characters on both shows. This monstrosity, as you so eloquently put it, reminds me of Spike and that damn amulet for some weird reason.” 

I just couldn’t help myself, I was dorky as hell. But, hey I was quoting Angel verbatim; I was already showing my true colors. Eric shook his head like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth, but he was smiling. And he kept the conversation going.

“You mean from Buffy and Angel, your favorite TV Shows of all time? As you once put it?” 

Ah, he remembered. Admittedly, it wasn’t that hard, I quoted and talked about both shows often enough.

“Exactly. Although I’d have to add Deadwood to my list of favorite series of all time too. It’s just so good. The acting, the dialogue, Ian McShane. Well, it’s fantastic.”

“On that we’re in complete agreement. Deadwood is one of the best TV Shows I’ve ever watched. I’m a big fan too.”

Eric would be a fan of Deadwood, of course. It made total sense. Too bad he didn’t seem very interested in Joss Whedon’s masterpieces.

“And yet, you have never watched Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Stop being such a TV snob and get to it, you won’t regret it.”

“I’m not a TV snob. And I know Buffy is a cult show and all that, but it always seemed so silly to me, especially the name. But, since you’re such a big fan I might give it a shot sometime.”

“You won’t regret it; just get past the first season. It’s the weakest and campiest, although it has some good standalone episodes. Season two is where it gets phenomenal. It’s funny you bring the silly name up. Joss Whedon said something about it years ago, that the inane name was on purpose and if people chose to skip the show because of it, he didn’t want them watching it anyway. So, maybe it really isn’t for you.” I teased. 

“Now, who’s being the snob?” He jokingly asked.

“Touché.” 

I laughed and then we lapsed into a comfortable silence. I was getting pumped up. I couldn’t wait to accomplish this job. It was from that exhilarating thought that I was brought out of by Eric’s voice. 

“Can I ask you something?” Eric said carefully.

“Sure, you just did.” I smiled. “You can ask me anything, you know that, so what’s up?”

“I don’t mean to upset you, but you were tense earlier today about tonight. Now, we’re on our way there and you are very excited. I can see the sparkle in your eyes and you’re practically vibrating. Not that I’m complaining, I didn’t like seeing you so anxious. But what changed your mood?”

Internally, I mused… Well, I thought long and hard, exercised like a maniac and realized I’m in love with you, but that I can’t really do anything about it right now.

I couldn’t give him that reply, and though it was true, it was not even close to the whole truth. I was animated because I loved my job and I was about to do something totally different than anything I had ever done before. Something very unpredictable that carried certain risks, which I got off on, plain and simple. 

So, I dramatically rubbed my hands together and declared:

“Elementary, my dear Watson. The game is afoot!”

My theatricality was rewarded with a booming laugh from Eric. I continued on conversationally.

“You know, people usually associate that quote with Sherlock Holmes, but although Arthur Conan Doyle used the phrase in one of the books, that quote is originally from Shakespeare. It appears in two of his plays: Henry IV, Part 1 and Henry V, right at the end of that great war monologue, you know the one. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…”

Yeah, my nerdiness was starting to overflow. I shut up. Only to be met by Eric’s voice.

“God, I love your mind.” He said with feeling.

What? What was he talking about? Did he enjoy my ramblings?

“What?” I eloquently asked.

That earned me a look I couldn’t quite decipher. It had just dawned on me that maybe what he had said had come out impulsively and that it was not something that I was supposed to hear. He did elaborate, though.

“It’s just one of the many reasons, actually. But, I mean the way you can equally, precisely, and excitedly quote from silly TV dramas likes Grey’s Anatomy to Shakespeare. And that you feel the need to correctly credit a quote you used.”

Oh.

That was another big compliment. There was no way around that. Not one man in my life had ever said to me: ‘I love your mind’. Sure, I love you, I love your face, I love your breasts, etc., but my mind was never high on the list of things they loved about me or even bothered to mention. And Eric had just said he loved my mind for many different reasons. Fuck. That was exactly one of the many causes of why I had fallen in love with him. He was different. He got me, he liked me. He praised me often and never with an agenda. It was more like he noticed stuff about me that he appreciated and then shared his thoughts with me. I don’t think he meant it like that, but that was extremely seductive to me. It meant he saw me. He paid attention. I mattered to him. It was a heady feeling. 

While I was silently feeling all warm and fuzzy about what Eric had just told me and what it meant, he looked at my face searchingly and then carried on.

“You don’t like compliments, do you? I’ve noticed this about you. You get slightly uncomfortable every time I praise you. Why is that?”

I always said he was very observant. I decided to be truthful, as usual.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate praise, exactly. It’s just that in my experience people usually compliment you because they have an agenda. It can be something as cliché as wanting to seduce you to something as harmless as getting into someone’s good graces. Or the person might be just being nice, usually to be liked, for their own validation. It means the flatterer wants something from you, whatever it is. But there is always something. When it comes to you specifically, it’s different. I don’t see any hidden agendas or get the feeling that you want something in return from me. Your compliments are freely and honestly given and that’s perplexing to me. I’m not used to it. I don’t know how to respond, unless it’s to just say thank you, which sounds a little egotistical, you know?”

My little monologue was met with silence. I waited it out. Did his silence mean he had an agenda? I never thought he did. Was I now reading him wrong since I realized I loved him? Had I been reading him wrong this whole time? I hoped not. That would be heart breaking and also a massive blow to my self-confidence, since I considered my ability to read people well one of the most valuable skills I had. 

Eric cleared his throat.

“You’re wise beyond your years.” He said simply.

That was quite cryptic and not really about the topic we were discussing. It was a ham-fisted attempt to close the subject, if I had ever heard one. It seemed I wouldn’t be getting any answers to the questions he had raised in my head at the moment. And it was another compliment. Fuck it, we were getting close to the club and I didn’t feel like, nor had the time, to contemplate the enigma that was Eric and my insecurities right now.

“Thank you.” I replied in a monotone. 

It was my turn to change topics and get us both back to the task at hand. 

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. So, I was thinking, I don’t want you to leave your car with the valet.”

“Why?” He asked. 

I had realized not long after hiring Eric that he tended to always ask why about things that I knew he had the answer for or that were just plain common sense. At first, I thought he was just indulging me and trying to suck up a bit when I was teaching him something about being a PI. Later, it dawned on me that he asked because he wanted to understand my train of thought, my logic behind certain things. How my mind worked. And to see if he was in agreement with my reasoning. I didn’t mind that at all, it was good, we had similar thought processes, and it prevented misunderstandings. Eric was like a sponge, he liked to suck up knowledge about everything and everyone. I had noticed that was especially the case when it came to information about me, or maybe that was just my inner hope shining through. So, I answered him.

“For many reasons, actually. First, we don’t know how this night will play out. We might need to make a quick escape. Also, your car is just too noticeable. It’s a very dramatic truck and it’s registered in your real name. And before you protest, I told you already that your vehicle isn’t suited to our line of work. It’s not my fault you chose to drive the Batmobile. It’s best if they don’t know what we drive. They won’t have your plates, so they can’t track us. Lastly, but more importantly, I’m leaving my clutch in your truck with my gun inside of it. I can’t in clear conscience leave a gun unattended in a car that will be driven by who knows whom with the keys kept who knows where. I can’t take that risk. My weapon and its safety are my responsibility and I don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”

“Agreed. I can take the back streets and we can park just around the corner, out of sight, and then walk to the entrance.” Eric said.

“Sounds like a plan.” I easily approved. 

Eric nodded and kept driving. We were getting very close to our destination now. My exhilaration grew the closer we got. The game was indeed afoot. I grinned to myself.

Finally, we arrived on the street just around the corner from the club. Eric slowed the car down and started to maneuver it into a parking space in the middle of the block.

I was pumped up, so to amuse myself I said aloud:

“Activating Bimbo Mode in T minus 2 minutes.”

Eric shot me an annoyed look. I rolled my eyes.

“Eric, we already had this conversation. Plus, I’m playing the bimbo part tonight, even you can’t deny that and that’s what people inside will think of me.”

“Only because you’ll be acting.” Eric replied.

“I disagree. I bet that even if I strolled in there and was completely myself that’d still be people’s first impression of me.” 

“I think you deceive yourself, Sookie.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Just that you don’t see yourself very clearly sometimes.”

“I consider myself a pretty self-aware person.” I protested.

“You are, for the most part. However, you’re not good at seeing what other people, in general, really think about you. I can assure you it’s not what you think. I don’t believe you realize the impression you make.” 

“Maybe just on you.” I couldn’t resist saying it, though I knew I shouldn’t.

“No. On everyone you meet. Although, in my case I admit it’s different.” 

I was startled into silence. I was about to inquire about what he meant, but before I got the opportunity, I heard his voice and I didn’t get a chance to reply. 

“We’re here.” He said.

I was so engrossed in our chat, that I didn’t even notice that he had finished parking the car and we were now stationary. 

Well, at least the man knew how to multi-task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, what did you think of this chapter? The next one will be at the Swinger’s Club. I really don’t want to be a nag, but I’d appreciate if you guys left me some reviews/comments. The last chapter barely got any. Are you guys losing interest in the story?


	11. A Past Conversation - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUGGESTION: Since I haven’t updated this story in a while, I HIGHLY recommend a reread of all previous chapters. It’s not a long read and will make this chapter more enjoyable and you’ll understand certain things about the previous chapters better. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This chapter takes place around 2 months after Sookie hired Eric. About a month before the last chapter (the one where they’re going to the Swinger’s Club).
> 
> IT’S A FLASHBACK CHAPTER!
> 
> A/N: Dear readers, I'm deeply sorry. I know you're all dying to read what happens in the Swinger’s Club and I'm truly dying to write it. However, for some reason, this story refuses to come to me in a linear fashion. My muse is being a bitch. Maybe, it’s because I did that 3 month’s time jump because I was eager to get to write about Sookie and Eric when they had already been working together for a bit, also I wanted to get to the romance part (or the beginning of it). Or maybe this story is supposed to be non -linear. Maybe all of the above! The thing is I need this chapter and another flashback one (about "the incident” you have seen mentioned before and will read about it here again, but still have no idea what’s that’s about. You’ll find out. It might be the next chapter or the next chapter might be the Swinger’s Club. Only my muse can tell and she’s keeping her mouth shut. This chapter and “the incident” chapter are critical to the evolution of their relationship, of their dynamic. It shows the beginning of their work together, of what Eric sees in Sookie to get to where we are in the present timeline with his feelings and vice-versa. I think after you read both you’ll agree with me. I’m sure of it. Trust me? Please?

CHAPTER 11 - A PAST CONVERSATION - PART 1

 

 

“Good teams become great ones when the members trust each other enough to surrender the ‘me' for the ‘we’." - Phil Jackson

 

“Every woman that finally figured out her worth, has picked up her suitcases of pride and boarded a flight to freedom, which landed in the valley of change.” - Shannon L. Alder

 

"I have found that it is necessary to let things go; simply because they are heavy” - Anonymous 

 

_________________________

 

After a couple of months of Eric and I working together, and especially since “the incident”, as I liked to called it, had happened, we had gotten into a good groove. We got along great and Eric was an invaluable help so far. We had gotten into a comfortable routine when we weren’t out working cases. 

Since hiring Eric I had been spending a lot more time in the office. When I was working alone, I did try to work regular hours and go to the office from 9am to 5pm. But, that didn’t usually happen. I worked a lot from home and kept the hours I wanted, it was a great advantage of being my own boss and one of the many reasons being a PI and opening my own agency had such an appeal to me.

However, when I hired Eric all changed. First, because I wanted to establish a routine for him and see if he could do a 9 to 5 job. Second, it was important for me to be there with him most of the time, since I was training him in the PI business. I had to be available and sort of take him under my wing. Lastly, the truth was I enjoyed his company immensely, and it was a lot more fun to stay at the office, even after hours, working side by side than by myself at home. 

So, that’s where I found myself at the moment. I was in my office at 7pm working away at balancing the books. One great advantage of being a lawyer and having had some experience with tax law, was that I did’t have to outsource the firm’s accounting. I just did it myself. And since my business wasn’t big enough yet, it was not a big job, although I confess I didn’t particularly enjoy doing it. Maybe one day when Eric and I had grown the business, I’d hire an accountant to do it for me.

I was sitting at my desk, working away at the computer. Eric was lounging, as was his custom lately, on the small sofa in my office, which faced me and my desk and stood against the wall behind the client chairs, with a pile of files around him and on the floor. This had become our routine since not long after “that” day. He was studying all my case files, one by one, methodically. He was taking the job more seriously than I had expected. It was convenient to have me around when he was doing that because he enjoyed asking questions about the cases, very detailed and sometimes very obvious questions. It had annoyed me in the beginning because I knew how brilliant Eric was and I thought he was just trying to kiss my ass or playing dumb to test me. However, it had dawned on me lately that he asked so much for two reasons: he really wanted to learn and understand the business; and he was trying to see how my mind worked and the rationale behind all my decision making. Fair enough and it had my approval, so here we were.

I was concentrating and not paying any attention to anything besides my work on the screen. Eric had been quiet for quite a while. Either he was reading something that interested him or he had dozed off. Or maybe he was trying not to disturb me, since I was doing an important task that he knew I didn’t enjoy and that he couldn’t help me with. No sooner had my mind wondered about his silent status, when I heard his voice. 

“Sookie, can I ask you something?”

He always did, that was the main reason we stayed late at the office, so he could study and ask me whatever he wanted while I worked on other things. But, he had never asked me permission to ask a question before and he sounded cautious and there was something weird about the tone of his voice. Tentative. The way he phrased it and his tone got my attention. This was new. However, me being me, I just couldn’t resist teasing him. 

“Sure, Eric. It’s actually your job and the reason we have fallen into this routine. Fire away.” 

I said it archly and without taking my eyes off the screen. I was mostly done and just double checking some figures. 

My response was met by silence. It stretched until I had to glance away from my laptop to look at him. He had put the files into neat piles on the floor and was sitting on the couch very formally facing me with a more serious expression on his face than his usual one. That was odd. My curiosity was piqued. I looked into his eyes and saw he was focused completely on me and dead serious. What the hell? I hesitated, trying to decide what to say, but he carried on.

‘‘Actually, it’s not a question about the job or anything in the files. It’s a personal question. I’ve been wondering about it for some time, but I never found the right time or the courage to inquire.”

Courage? Eric was deeply courageous. What type of question could he want to ask me, even a personal one, which would make him so cautions? WTF?

I tensed briefly. I couldn’t imagine what he wanted to know, how personal it was and why was the topic being so carefully handled, when he had a great sense of humor and we had such great banter together. I forced myself to relax and replied.

“Eric, you can ask me anything you want.” 

That earned me a joyful smile from him, but it was only there a moment and then gone. I continued, because I wasn’t done at all. The smile had distracted me for a bit. Eric looked even more gorgeous when he truly smiled, but that was neither here, nor there. I had to stop noticing his good looks. I assumed I’d get accustomed to it sooner or later, with time and more interaction, so its effect would cease to affect me. They hadn’t.

“That being said, it doesn’t mean I’ll answer it. You can certainly always ask whatever you want about me and the job and I won’t lie, but if I don’t feel like responding to a personal question, I’ll just tell you so.” 

He nodded his head with agreement and understanding. Eric stared at me for a beat and then spoke.

“That’s fair.”

“So, what is the question?”

He seemed like he was stalling, but why I had no idea. His behavior was deeply weird and completely different from anything I had seen from him so far. What personal question about me could have this effect on him? He was a very no nonsense guy, blunt and as direct as they came, so why this sudden bizarre, almost shy demeanor?

It troubled me, especially since I had no clue about what he wanted to ask. I wasn’t used to being blindsided, especially by Eric. 

I kept staring directly at him and schooled my features intro a neutral and slightly curious expression. I kept my mouth shut.

He remained silent for longer than I thought he would and I could feel his tension. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there.

Finally, after studying my expression for a couple of minutes, he spoke. 

“Why did you quit practicing law? From the research I did on you before our first meeting you had incredible potential for a very promising career. You skipped a few years of school and college and were the youngest in your class when graduating Law School. You graduated Summa Cum Laude at the very top of your class. You had fantastic internships and amazing jobs after graduation. Also from what I know of you now, I know you could have had great success and be earning a lot of money, respect and immense status. I know those aren’t important to you, or me, but we can’t pretend it doesn’t have its appeal, especially when we're younger. So, why did you abandon it? What was the deciding factor? You certainly don’t owe me an explanation, but I’ve been wondering for a long time and finally decided it didn’t hurt to ask. It’s entirely your choice to answer it and if you decide not to, I promise to never ask again. I’ll respect your privacy as you have respected mine, which I greatly appreciate, even if I haven’t told you this before. And I know it’s hypocritical of me to be asking you this when I made it clear my past life in the military is off limits.”

He took a deep breath and his gaze bored into mine.

"The truth is I want to understand you better.”

Well, I had never heard Eric being so verbose. He sounded nervous, apprehensive and uncomfortable. I had never seen him like that before. It was a new facet of him and it was deeply weird to see him behaving so, well, human and unsure. He was always in complete control of himself, with possibly the exception of the day of the “incident”. He was unflappable, so seeing him like that was unsettling and strange, but also in a weird way delightful. I liked getting to know more of Eric and seeing him behave like a normal human being and not a in control deadly soldier or a sarcastic jovial guy. He was quite the contradiction. Complex didn’t begin to describe him. This was VERY interesting.

I had a decision to make. I could cut him off and let him know that that was off limits, like he had done with me, which would be fair, but also petty. Or, I could be completely honest. So, as per my usual I decided to go with complete honesty. I hoped that would strengthen our bond and our professional and personal relationship. I would trust him and maybe one day he would trust me enough to tell me more about his past. Someone had to start the ball rolling, and that would be me. If I refused to give him an answer now there would always be a distance between us, a Chinese Wall on personal matters. Plus, he would never again try to ask me relevant personal questions and would likely keep things superficial. I didn’t want that. I like how we were developing our friendship above and beyond our working relationship. 

So, after a deep breath I opened the huge can of worms inside my head and decided to pour everything out, into Eric’s willing ears. 

“So, do you want the short version or the long one?”

Eric pondered me for a few seconds. He was trying to gauge my reaction.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be, nor do I want to be anywhere else. It’s your choice, since it’s your story.”

“Okay. I tell you the long version where and when it matters. I have no desire to go through my college years or most of the jobs I had. I’m pretty sure your Intel covered everything relevant, as you so kindly proved with your speech. I’m guessing you're interested in what you couldn’t find out or pieces that didn't quite fit and you want me to fill in the blanks. Am I correct in my assumptions?

My tone was acerbic. 

Eric smiled slightly.

“As I have been finding out for the last two months, so far you’ve always been correct in your assumptions”.

He sounded proud. I couldn't decide if I found it endearing or condescending. So, I ignored it. He was pissing me off. I couldn’t say exactly why, but it was mostly pieces of things he had said. I guess the topic of conversation wasn’t helping either. It had been a deep wound, it had healed, but it left a scar. Not so “visible” anymore, but still there. The truth was it would never completely fade. 

"Since you did such a thorough job of investigating my life before we even met, you know I was an intern at the DA’s office for about 6 months, right before I graduated.” 

Some of my irritation leaked into my voice. I knew Eric had researched me, he told me so the first time we met. However, I had no idea how deep he had dug. It annoyed me. I shouldn’t have been surprised, especially not now that I knew him much better. Eric never did anything half- assed and he had worked in the intelligence department for our Government. Really, what had I expected? That he had just googled me?

I mentally rolled my eyes. 

My tone affected him, because he started to flinch, but controlled himself in time. I waved my hand before he could apologize. I needed to get my story out, also I couldn’t deny that I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were him. I was a PI for Christ sake. Finding everything out about someone and digging as deep as possible were second nature to me and I enjoyed it. 

I nodded, mostly to myself, took another deep breath and started my tale.

“It was a fantastic opportunity. I had always envisioned myself working in Criminal Law, ideally as a Prosecutor. I was idealistic and a Professor who was like a mentor to me got me in the door. I was as happy as a clam. The work was hard, the cases were mostly interesting until the last one. Well, to be honest it was interesting, although I can think of a dozen words or more that are more appropriate.”

A bitter laugh came out of my mouth, at first I didn’t even realized it had been me that made that sound. It was jaded, resentful and deeply sarcastic. Like an evil witch’s laugh from a movie. I didn’t remember ever laughing like that. That laugh wasn’t me at all. 

I had to pause there. And old pain, not physical, but mental reared its ugly head. Physical pain, for me, had always been easy to get over. I was good with mental trauma too, but it required a lot more effort. I shot it down. I was over what had happened, glad even, in a way. It had put me on the path I was on now, the one that was right for me. 

Eric looked startled and worried, he had felt the change in me and I was sure my laugh had freaked him out. He leaned forward in his chair and was almost standing before he suddenly and stiffly sat back down. For a crazy moment I had the feeling that he wanted to get up and hug me. I was losing it. The old memories were making me irrational. Eric and I didn’t hug. Neither of us were sentimental types, plus we most certainly didn’t have that type of relationship. 

I had to put my big girl pants on. It had been my choice to tell Eric the story. No way in hell was I going to let old ghosts haunt me here and now. 

I really thought I had gotten over the past, apparently not as much as I wanted to or should have. Also, I hadn’t talked about it in years. Only Amelia knew and after a while we had reached a tacit agreement never to speak of it again. If I thought it would affect me this way, I would probably have told Eric to fuck off, although in nicer terms, of course.

In for a penny, in for a pound. But, most importantly I wasn’t going to let this corpse from my past raise itself like a zombie and chase me. I was stronger than that. I would shoot it between the eyes, burn its body, bury its ashes deep in the woods and carry on. I had buried it once, although apparently not deep enough. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

I resumed talking. Eric was completely focused on me, quiet as a church mouse. If didn’t know better I’d have said he hadn’t even blink.

“Anyway, as I was saying the last case I worked on was, to say the least, complicated. A young, filthy rich college guy was accused of raping a 14 year old prostitute and almost beating her to death."

His face floated to the front of my mind and I wanted to gag. Yup, I was resurrecting old ghosts. Her face floated up too. It made me want to cry. I never cried. I had to stop for a minute to compose myself and bury both memories back deep down where they belonged. My breathing had sped up a bit. I worked on emptying my mind and controlling it. When I came back to myself, I saw Eric move. And I mean move. One instant he was sitting down on the couch frozen and looking deeply concerned, the next he had gotten up and sat in the chair facing me and my desk. No man that size should be able to move that fast and that gracefully. It was like I blinked and suddenly he was there. 

Before I could say anything or have any type of reaction his huge hand was covering the back of one of mine. I hadn’t realized, but I had put both hands on my desk to steady myself. Damn it all to hell. I hated losing control, especially showing vulnerability or weakness to anyone. If people knew what affected you deeply, they could use it against you, to hurt you and for their own gain. I didn’t think Eric would ever do that to me, but the truth was I only knew him for two months. Plus, he was like an onion and I hadn’t even peeled his whole first layer yet. 

I had more pressing concerns at the moment, though. The second Eric’s hand had touched mine, my whole body reacted and came alive. I felt his touch run up from my hand to my arm, past my chest and up my neck until it reached my scalp. Then down my legs until it reached my toes. My whole body was tingling. It was deeply unsettling, especially because some part of me was really enjoying it and wanted him to hold me, fold me into his huge arms and chest and comfort me while telling me everything would be okay. What the ever loving fuck? Get a fucking grip now, Sookie! Damn it all to hell, this part of my past was fucking up my mind years later, when I had thought it was safe to bring it up. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. 

My first instinct after those bizarre thoughts about Eric floated through my mind, and well, body, was to yank my hand away from his, which I almost did reflexively. However, as I looked up all I could see were Eric’s eyes, the concern in them, the tenderness and the guilt. It touched me. He was trying to offer his support, to comfort me, to make me feel better. So, I left my had exactly where it was against my better judgement. But, when his thumb started to caress my hand, I couldn’t take it anymore. My world was spinning for several reasons and that was one cause I could remedy. So, very carefully and slowly I removed my hand from under his. I had the impression he didn’t want to let go, but in the end he did. I had to get myself back in control and also the situation. I was furiously pondering what to say, when Eric spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Sookie. I’m so deeply sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. It was not my place. But, you have to know I never meant to hurt you and make you relieve any bad memories. I had no idea. You should have told me to fuck off. You don’t have to continue, let’s forget this and never speak of it again. I don’t need to know, especially not at the expense of your pain. It’s not worth it, it’ll never be worth it. I‘m more sorry than any words can adequately express.”

I laughed. It felt good. My world was getting back into its axis, finally. 

Eric reeled back in shock, looking at me like I had suddenly turned red and grown horns like Hellboy. 

I laughed harder. 

“Eric, I appreciate the apology, the support, everything you said. However, I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions. Yes, you asked a question, but I’m the one who chose to answer it. It wasn’t on impulse, I considered it. Now, I’ll admit I didn’t expect to have such a bizarre reaction while telling you the story. Until today I hadn’t spoken or really thought about it in years. I figured the issue had been dealt with and wouldn’t affect me anymore. That was a miscalculation on my part, not yours. I’m responsible for my choices, so stop the martyr routine because it isn’t needed or wanted. It’s not your fault. Not one bit. Now, do you want to hear the rest of it, or have you had enough?”

Eric continued gazing at me like I had indeed turned into an alien creature.

“You can’t be serious, Sookie. You mean to tell me you want to continue this conversation? You’ve had a severe reaction to the topic, a physical one and I saw the pain in your eyes. Why do you want to torture yourself more?”

I smiled.

“It's more of a monologue than a conversation, really. And yes, I want to continue, unless you’re the one who can’t take it anymore. Is my pain bothering you? Good, it shows you’re human and empathetic. And I don’t want to torture myself at all, quite the opposite. I want to free myself of these ghosts. If I shut up now, I’m not facing them head on and putting them to rest. I’ll have conjured them up for nothing and they will haunt me or try to. The only way to get rid of it, is to purge it. To say it crudely, to vomit it all out. And you’ll sit there, take it, and listen until I’m freed. You’ll bear witness to my pain, no matter what it makes you feel. After all you asked for this. You just didn’t know the price. Everything has a price, Eric, you know that. You just weren’t expecting this price tag. Well, tough luck. You opened the door, now let me walk through it. Can you do all that?”

I wasn’t trying to be mean but I had meant every word. I had lost control of my emotions, had felt vulnerable and weak, two of the things I hated most in the world. So, I might have been a little more blunt than I should have. However, I also didn’t want Eric feeling guilty and punishing himself. Nor did I want him treating me from here on out as a damsel in distress. It really wasn’t his fault, it had been MY choice. Eric respected bluntness and strength, so I gave him both in my reply. That would put him back to rights, if not right this second, later when he would have time to ponder this conversation. I was helping us both. 

Eric considered what I had said to him for a couple of minutes. I pondered his silence and facial expressions right back. Our eyes were locked. Mine issued a challenge: Will you listen? His, I had no idea. I wasn’t at my best and he was doing his hardest to hide his true emotions from me. That was fine. I knew I would emerge the winner of this staring contest. The funny thing was, I hadn’t even gotten to the worst part. Not even close. So far, this was almost a happy story, if you forgot the rape of a minor by a scumbag. But that was only the prologue. And quite a short one at that. There was so much more to come. More pain, more misery, more crime and even death. No, not a happy story at all. A tragedy. 

A twisted side of me was dying to know how Eric would react to it all. Oh well, I’d soon find out.


End file.
